Sixteen Years
by Council
Summary: Sixteen years later marks Harry Potter's forced return to the wizarding world after being banished to the muggle world for sixteen years. When he returns, he will be forced to fight, but in his own, Shotgunning, Motorcycling, Firewielding unique style. DifferentBWL, H/G, TwinPotters, Mature/Powerful/Wizards, Awesome and Intense Wizarding Duels await.
1. August 11th

**Council Proudly Presents: Sixteen Years**

**Will contain themes of violence and death, but won't be too graphic. I'm sure it's nothing none of you people have ever read before.**

**Also contains living Potter parents, twin potters, different boy who lived, canon universe up to ending of fourth book, Harry/Ginny**

**Harry will not be ridiculously strong and overpowered, instead, everyone, good and evil, will be super powerful. Everyone will be on an even, but godlike playing field.**

**And with all that out of the way... let us begin, shall we?**

* * *

Sixteen years.

Ryan Potter looked up at the cloudy sky, and was reminded of a fateful day that occurred exactly sixteen years ago. It was the kind of enveloping night that suggested that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening across the wizarding world. Sixteen years ago Ryan Potter had successfully, albeit unknowingly, defeated the seemingly unstoppable dark lord, Lord Voldemort. Ryan was pondering what kind of event could possibly occur this time around that could hold a candle to such a significant event. Discovering that he couldn't think of any, Ryan tore his gaze off of the midnight gray, expansive sky.

He idly ran his fingers across the scar on his forehead. His finger fell, rose, and then continued to fall as he traced the lightning bolt insignia. The lightning bolt was a souvenir from Voldemort, the only mark on Ryan's body that suggested he had ever been involved in a confrontation with the Dark Lord.

Ryan sighed heavily as he ran his fingers through his already messy, black hair, a habit he had unknowingly picked up from his father. His sparkling green eyes were hidden beneath wire framed glasses, and those emerald orbs were seemingly the only characteristic that he had inherited from his mother.

Ryan was wondering what was happening in the shadows of the wizarding world. He had access to the Daily Prophet, so the everyday gossip was easily obtained, but Ryan wasn't interested in gossip, he wanted to know about Voldemort.

Two years ago Voldemort had risen from the dead, and after trapping Ryan through an elaborate Tri-Wizard tournament trap, used Ryan's blood as an essential potion ingredient in order to make the already formidable dark lord even more powerful. However, since that day there had been neither hide nor hair of Voldemort. The malevolent Dark Lord had simple vanished.

Ryan withdrew his holly and phoenix feather wand, the brother wand to Voldemort's, and sent a hissing bludgeoning hex at a nearby apple tree. The hex slammed into a solitary apple, causing a giant explosion of fruit juice, but thankfully acting as a shield, and saving the wonderfully aged tree from destruction. Ryan stood there blinking furiously as drops of apple juice settled in his unkempt hair. He tried shaking his head, which did little to relieve the moisture, so he proceeded with a simple drying charm. Although dry, his hair retained the sticky feeling of the sweet juice, which continued to dampen Ryan's mood.

Why couldn't bloody Voldemort just show up, so everyone would know Ryan wasn't an attention-seeking liar! The more Ryan thought about it, the more he realized that this was the crux of the matter, and the source of his constant irritation. The bloody Daily Prophet continued to spew rubbish about Ryan, proclaiming that he had made up a cock and bull story to gain even more publicity. As if Ryan cared about publicity, he just wanted to help protect people from Voldemort. At least Dumbledore was still on Ryan's side. Ryan knew that as long as he had Dumbledore's support, he would persevere.

The slamming of a wooden door interrupted Ryan's musing, and he instinctively rolled into a crouch, his holly wand back in his hand, his wrist tense, ready to flick out a cutting spell at a moments notice. It was a false alarm of course, as Ryan immediately recognized the owner of the pounding footsteps as they neared him.

"Ryan, grab your broom. Dumbledore flooed, there's a disturbance going on east of London, and he wants us there as back up."

Ryan scampered back into a standing position and cast a silent accio charm for his broom, which came rushing towards him. He slid onto the firebolt, and kicked off the ground with a powerful push, only moments after his father, James Potter, launched off on a firebolt of his own.

It had been sixteen years. Perhaps now would finally be the day that Voldemort made his reappearance.

* * *

Sixteen years.

James Potter glanced behind to check on his only son. Ryan hadn't always been the Potter's only son, but he was now. Sixteen years ago James and Lily had been forced to make a difficult decision, and even to this day, James was unsure whether they had made the right one, but the married couple had no choice but to live with the cards they had left. If that meant keeping Ryan safe at the cost of James's own life, then so be it.

James turned his attention back to the sky in front of him as Ryan overtook him in a burst of acceleration. The boy was a natural flier, perhaps even better than James, who was a prodigy in his own right. Ryan could sense air currents as if it was his secret, sixth sense, and was constantly weaving around in the sky, barrelling into the air sockets that would rocket him forwards. James had once tried to follow his son, but found that the feat was near impossible. So instead James relied upon his perfected flying stance that enabled him to squeeze the maximum acceleration out of his broom, and slowly caught up to his son.

The two of them were speeding towards Bristol, planning to intercept a target that was travelling south from Gloucester. James had been rather curious as to why Dumbledore had specified to follow the highway, as broomsticks were not restricted to the Muggle paved roads, but James knew from experience not to doubt Albus's orders. Therefore, father and son were flying together over the open highway at speeds nearly reaching 200 kilometres per hour, searching for, as Albus had put it, "a rather conspicuous and noticeable individual."

The lack of information had not dissuaded James for a moment. He owed Dumbledore not just his life, but also the life of his wife and son, and was more than happy to repay his debt through blind orders. Sixteen years ago when Voldemort had broken through the Fidelious charm on the Potter's residence, Dumbledore had come to their aid immediately, and not a moment too late. Fawkes had not only just flamed in with Dumbledore, but also flamed into the way of a sickly green spell that a petrified James had been unable to dodge. Fawkes had been just fine, and was reborn hours later, but the same could not be said for the Potter's home.

The culminating battle between Dumbledore and Voldemort had resulted in the destruction of nearly the whole house. Lily and Potter fled the burning, collapsing building, but while their backs were turned, Voldemort had launched another green, _avada kedavra_ spell at the couple. Lily saw the spell, and screamed, before passing out. What happened next, no one, other than Voldemort and Dumbledore, witnessed. The baby in Lily's arms had shone with a golden light, which grew until it enveloped both him and his unconscious mother. The golden light absorbed, and then reflected the mottled green curse back at its caster, and Voldemort's soul was severed painfully from his body.

The ear-splitting, high pitched, sheer screaming of absolute pain was enough to distract James, and to turn around. James, with his back turned during his escape, had not seen the miraculous event that had just occurred, he had been too focused on running with the baby body of his second son in his arms.

"Hey dad, can you hear that?" Ryan shouted at his dad, his voice amplified by his wand at his throat so he could be heard over the buffeting and howling winds.

"Hear what?" James shouted back, but as soon as the words left his mouth he could hear the rumbling. Being six hundred meters above the ground, James was forced to look directly down to see the highway. He cast a magnification spell on his glasses to better see the highway, and what he saw took his breath away.

"Where the bloody hell did that come from?" James said out loud.

It had been sixteen years since he had last seen what was causing this particular rumbling, thunder-like noise.

* * *

Sixteen years.

That was how long Hagrid had been living in his homely, wooden log cabin. He still remembered hammering in the last floorboard when he had received an urgent message from Dumbledore to travel to the Potter's residence. Dumbledore had flamed away with Fawkes before Hagrid could respond, and tell Dumbledore, the great man that he is, that he didn't know where the Potter's lived. No one did. It was under a fidelious charm.

And then Hagrid had stumbled out of his house in shock when the Godric's Hollow address surfaced in his mind, and he realized exactly what had happened. Hagrid may be half-giant, and that may make him a tad slower than the average human, but he was also half human, and smart enough to realize the significance of remembering the address. The Potter's had been compromised. James and Lily were in danger.

Unfortunately for Hagrid, he had no way of travelling to Godric's Hollow. He couldn't apparate, and his small cabin had only just been built, and had no floo access yet. Not knowing what else to do, Hagrid had begun sprinting towards Hogsmead, where he knew he'd be able to ask for help. Hogsmead was a long distance away, and a normal human would take 20 minutes walking there, but Hagrid was a sprinting half-giant, and he made it there in a record time of four minutes.

The first person Hagrid spotted upon entering Hogsmead had been Sirius, and what luck that had been, or so Hagrid had thought. He angrily took a large gulp of his home brewed Giant's Rum, most famous for causing raging headaches to humans. At over 65% alcohol concentration, it was a lethal drink for most humans, but not crossbreeds like Hagrid.

He finished a quarter of the bottle before slamming down the bottle on the rock solid table, and falling back into his sturdy, wooden, steel supported armchair. How had Hagrid meant to know that Sirius was the traitor that almost cost James and Lily their lives? If Hagrid had known, he would have torn that Black scum apart limb by limb, while he was still alive, breathing and screaming. Hagrid focused on his breathing as the raging giant blood in his body began to awaken. It would do no good to destroy his home now, especially with the cloudy sky that was threatening to rain this night.

Black had lent Hagrid his motorcycle. It was a beautiful piece of technology. The large, metallic black alloys and powerful pistons had awed Hagrid, and had readily borrowed the bike from Sirius. Of course, Hagrid had been rather confused as to why Sirius was giving him his beloved bike. The thing was Sirius's most important possession. The genius of a man, he was still a genius, even if he was a bloody traitor, had spent years perfecting the charms and permanent transfigurations on the Muggle contraption. All of his effort, work and love, and then suddenly Sirius gets up and gives it to Hagrid.

Hagrid growled at himself, and reached for his rum again. If only he had known. He should've known, but he hadn't. He could've broken Black's neck right there and then, but he hadn't.

When Hagrid had arrived on the scene he was wondrously relieved to discover everyone alive. Lily looked exhausted, and James was covered in blood, but they were alive, along with their twins. They were all alive.

Hagrid was one of the few, and perhaps possibly the only, individuals to have been able to say they were on a first name basis with both of the Potter twins. Everyone knew Ryan of course, he was the most talked about wizard in today's world. There was always a page reserved for him in the daily prophet. Admittedly, it wasn't a page full of praise and glory about the Potter child, but it was still about him.

No, what made Hagrid special was that he knew the other twin. Knew him rather well in fact. It had all started when the Ryan Potter look alike had wandered into Hagrid's self built log cabin. He had been in a terrible state. Scratches covered his arms and legs, his lips were parched from dehydration, and as he stood within Hagrid's small abode, he had collapsed to the ground in a fever.

In moments Hagrid had realized the identity of the boy. It was the Potter child that Dumbledore had chosen to abandon. The Headmaster's reasons were unknown and shady, and it had been the first time in Hagrid's long lifetime of servitude to Dumbledore that he had ever disagreed with one of the great man's decisions.

It had been sixteen years since that day, and today was the second time in Hagrid's lifetime that he had disagreed with Dumbledore's decision. Dumbledore had been furious when he discovered Hagrid's allegiance with the unpopular Potter twin. Hagrid's giant blood meant that Dumbledore's legilimancy was unusable on him, something that had never bothered the two before, as they had never had to keep secrets from one another.

But Dumbledore had flamed over half an hour ago, demanding to know just how exactly Hagrid knew the unknown Potter Twin. It seems that the kid had been spotted using an object that had last belonged to Hagrid.

Hagrid chuckled to himself, vibrating the very timber of his home, as he downed another inch of Giant's Rum. He hoped the Potter kid was enjoying his gift.

* * *

Sixteen years.

That's how long it had been since Ryan Potter's twin had been banished from the wizarding world, per say Dumbledore's orders. It had been a necessary act, the aging wizard told himself sixteen years, and the still aging wizard continued to believe that. Ryan Potter must be alone, so that Dumbledore could have him crafted into the perfect weapon against Voldemort, and so that the prophecy could be fulfilled. Dumbledore was adamant that this was to be a victory for the light, but for that to happen, Ryan Potter's twin must not exist.

James and Lily understood this. It had taken some persuasion, but they knew the importance of Ryan. The married couple also knew that they were in Dumbledore's debt for saving their lives, and ultimately knew they had no choice. If Dumbledore wished, he could, my magical force, cause the Potter's to give up far more than just one of their children. Therefore, The Potter's had willingly handed the unmarked twin over to the old wizard, who promptly left the house, only to be confronted by Hagrid, who had the gall to ask whether Albus was doing the right thing. Albus had forgiven Hagrid for his outburst that night, as he sympathised and understood that it was only the dim, giant side of Hagrid speaking.

Albus had deposited the crying baby at an orphanage in the outskirts of Nottingham, far away from London, and far, far away from Hogwarts. Albus' next step had been to wipe the twins name from the Hogwarts register. Unfortunately, the only way to do this had been to go to the Department of Mysteries, and destroy all evidence of the that particular twin's birth, effectively making it that he never existed.

By the end of the night, Ryan Potter was an only child, and the only people that knew of his existence were Voldemort, James, Lily, Hagrid and himself. It had been a perfectly executed plan. For sixteen years, no one ever suspected that Ryan Potter might have once not been an only child.

However, Albus' carefully concocted plan was falling apart around him. The twin had been discovered. That wasn't the horrifying part. The horrifying part was that the twin had been discovered with a magical object. The boy should not have had access to magic in any shape or form. No wands, no enchanted objects, no nothing.

As a loud rumbling shook the highway that Dumbledore stood upon, defiantly standing in the middle of the road, daring any incoming vehicles to dare hit him, the wizened wizard withdrew his long, beaded, elder wand. The old man's expression was warring between shock and anger.

What in Merlin's name was the boy doing on Sirius Black's old, flying motorcycle?

* * *

Sixteen years.

Black menacing cuts of cloth fluttered around pale skin as Voldemort flew through the curiously fitting cloudy sky. The dark lord felt alive and powerful. Finally, after sixteen years of existing as a roaming soul, and then regaining his magical power, he was back in the world of the living, and he was exultant.

The dark lord cackled in ecstatic pleasure as he swooped along the expansive highway, leaving behind a burning village. Sickly, consuming green flames burnt even the concrete foundations of houses, and the acrid, purple smoke that billowed from the fire was a deadly toxin that would render over fifteen hundred pitiful Muggles exterminated by morning. As easy as squashing an ant nest, Voldemort thought as he chuckled to himself.

As his billowing body neared the highway, the sound of wailing sirens mixed with powerful rumbling reached the dark lords enhanced ears. Voldemort caused the buffeting winds around him to rapidly grow stronger, and he was launched towards the scene of interest.

The scene was the most amusing thing Voldemort had seen in the past sixteen years. A man, who was obviously magical, as Voldemort could tell by his magical signature, was driving a Muggle motorcycle, while being chased by four, muggle cars that the Dark Lord knew were referred to as "The Police". The law enforcing fools were often compared to Aurors, and the dark lord held no respect for those deluded fools. Therefore, Voldemort detested the sight of policeman.

Voldemort wished that he knew the identity of the man on the motorbike, but the rider's dark tinted helmet prevented Voldemort from seeing his physical features. The rider wore a black leather jacket, tinted with a dark, metallic green stripe across the shoulders. The jacket fit comfortably and snugly around the rider's body as he leant forward into the bike. The midnight rider was travelling incredibly fast, and the police cars were having difficulty maintaining that kind of speed. Voldemort's enhanced hearing could pick up the Muggle engines whining as they struggling with their immense physical workout.

Voldemort knew that even a simpleton of a wizard would be able to fire off a few basic hexes and destroy the police cars, but for some reason, the midnight rider was refusing to attack the Muggles, and instead seemed intent on escape.

"How foolish," Voldemort whispered to himself, but his voice was lost in the howling winds. "How weak."

Voldemort toyed with the idea of letting the police cars chase down the midnight rider, but his impatience quickly won over, and he finally decided on simply killing them immediately. He'd start with the Muggles, then after discovering the man's identity, show him just how weak a Muggle-lover truly was.

With a flick of his hand, a 13 inch maple wand snapped into the dark lords hand. Another flick later and a powerful severing charm left the tip of the weapon and launched itself at the lagging police car. The spell sliced open the hood, and cleanly decimated the pumping engine. The car exploded in a beautiful splash of fire, destruction and death. Voldemort began laughing manically. He felt powerful. He felt alive.

The midnight rider took his eyes off the road, and turned his helmet-covered head behind him, taking in the explosion, before glancing up at the sky, directly at where Voldemort now flew, whose black robes were billowing out and blending in with the dark sky. Voldemort cast several piercing spells at the remaining Muggle cars. One driver was pierced through the head, and the driverless car smashed into a second car, which was hit with a piercing spell a moment later, resulting in a group fireball. The final car had its two front wheels punctured, and when the driver lost control and smashed into the concrete barrier at 150 kilometers per hour, the Muggles died instantly.

The midnight rider's motorcycle suddenly began spewing great bursts of fire, and moments later, was accelerating away from Voldemort at a now unimaginably ridiculous speed. The smoking remains from the burst of fire smelled just like dragon breath, and Voldemort was impressed. Someone had managed to find a way to contain dragon fire, and release it as an explosive fuel. Voldemort grinned at the thrill of the chase, and began expending more magical energy on the buffeting winds around him to speed himself up.

Seconds later he was once again travelling with the motorcycle, but the wind pressure against the Dark Lord was too strong for him to raise his wand and cast a spell. Besides, Voldemort was doubtful of his ability to aim at such a fast moving target. Voldemort could suddenly smell salt, and realized that a bank of water, obviously the sea, was approaching a few kilometres ahead, and that the highway was slowly curving to accommodate the ocean.

Voldemort was still trying to think of a way to stop the increasingly irritating midnight rider when he felt an incredibly powerful surge of magic a kilometre ahead. At the speed he was travelling, that was only a few seconds away, and so Voldemort was easily able to watch the colossus stone wall rise from the ground, blocking the entirety of the highway, while a single, gray haired, bearded wizard reted upon the magical, stone barrier.

Voldemort hissed and licked his lips in pleasure. It was Dumbledore, and the old Muggle loving fool was all alone. It had been sixteen years since his last duel with his nemesis, and the dark lord had a score to settle.

All thoughts of the midnight rider and his identity vanished from Voldemort's mind as he engaged the Headmaster of Hogwarts in a vicious, magical duel.

* * *

Sixteen years.

Sturdy boots gripped the carbon fibre frame of the powerful motorcycle. The tangy and intoxicating smell of spent dragon fire crept its smoky tendrils into the rider's helmet, who simply twitched his nose in response. The magical motorcycle was throbbing against the rider's body as he leant near horizontally upon the bike. At over 300 kilometers per hour, the bike was currently travelling faster than any Muggle motorcycle ever had, however, the rider wasn't scared, nervous, or even worried.

Harry Potter grinned in excitement while his adrenaline fuelled and drugged body was shivering in anticipation. It had been sixteen years since the magical world had tried to contact him, and although a crazed, flying dark lord launching deadly spells at his fellow Muggles was hardly a fitting welcome after all that time, it was still contact.

Confirming that his cloth backpack was still resting snugly around his shoulders, Harry leant into the motorbike, causing it to bank to the right, and he rocketed around the curve, the swelling ocean now to his left. Harry was wondering just how he would be able to lose the flying wizard on his trail when a castle like wall suddenly loomed in front of him. The only thing worse than the forbidding castle wall was the man upon it, Albus Dumbledore, the man who had banished Harry Potter to the Muggle world. The only thing worse than meeting Dumbledore would have been for Harry Potter to meet his parents and twin.

Harry Potter closed his vivid, emerald green eyes momentarily as he spotted two familiar looking wizards on broomsticks to his left, flying above the ocean. When his eyes opened back up, and he was marginally closer to the two figures, Harry realized why the two fliers looked so familiar. They looked like what Harry saw in a mirror. They were undoubtedly and unquestionably James and Ryan Potter. Out of all the individuals gathered at this location, Harry personally felt that he most preferred the flying human snake that was trying to murder him.

Realizing that there was a stone wall rapidly approaching, a dark lord on his trail from behind, and his traitorous family members in the sky, Harry had only option. Without any further hesitation he leant sharply to the left, leaning the bike towards the ocean. Before slamming into the metal banister, Harry pressed a button on the motorcycle dashboard, and with a faint stuttering, signifying the last of the dragon's breath being used up, the motorcycle was launched upwards into the sky, with Harry upon it, and over the ocean.

The bike was on a trajectory towards James Potter, who was staring at the bike in shock. Perhaps memories of Sirius were circling throughout his fathers mind, but Harry paid that little attention. Instead, as the bike rocketed towards the man on the broomstick, Harry let go of the handlebars with one hand, and clenched his fingers into a fist. His father tried to avoid the incoming bike, and was successful in dodging the large lump of metal, but not the solid fist that collided with him in the forehead.

James Potter was knocked unconscious immediately, and fell; arms and legs sprawled outwards, as he plummeted towards the ocean. Harry saw Ryan swoop down to catch his father before the dark, menacing ocean could engulf him. Harry noticed that his twin appeared to be a rather amazing flier, and wondered if he practiced often at Hogwarts. After securing his father, Ryan then turned around to look for the flying motorcycle. Harry knew that he would be looking up at the sky for the motorbike. He wa certain that Ryan would have heard stories about Sirius's famous flying motorcycle.

But it wasn't flying this time.

It was falling, plummeting almost, into the deep, dark ocean, taking Harry along with it. Harry and the bike slammed into the swelling ocean, and proceeded to vanish out of sight from everyone above water. What no one above knew was that Sirius's old bike had quite a few more enhancements upon it than no one, except for Harry and Sirius, knew about. One of these was the underwater mode.

The bike didn't transform or change at all. The wheels kept spinning and revolving thousands of times a minute, just as they would on land, except somehow, the energy was magically converted into thrust, which rocketed the motorcycle forward throughout the water. It now acted very similarly to how Harry assumed flying in outer space with a jetpack would be like.

Another feature of the underwater mode was the consistent recasting of a drying charm upon the rider. Although Harry could feel the water around him, it was a weird sensation of being constantly drenched, except discovering that your clothes are in fact still dry. It was an incredibly disorientating feeling to get used to, especially the first time Harry had tested out this feature.

Harry glanced at his dashboard and noted the amount of seaweed essence remaining. The underwater mode ran on liquid seaweed, instead of the regular petroleum for land. Right now Harry's tank was half full, enabling him about fourty-five minutes of underwater travel. Harry released a large, pent up breath, and began to wonder where exactly it was he would end up. Hopefully no one would be able to follow him in his underwater transport, and once he surfaced, he would be home free.

Once again Harry checked that the cloth backpack was still on his shoulders. It would be disastrous if he lost it. Too much had already been lost tonight in that small town, that by tomorrow morning, would be inhabited only by ghosts. The backpack was fortunately secure, but Harry didn't dare open it underwater, as he didn't know what the consequences would be, or how the bikes charms would react, so Harry simply left well enough alone.

Harry's mind continued to wander back to the wizards he had seen tonight. It had been sixteen years without any contact from anyone in the wizarding world, barring Hagrid, and now suddenly there were wizards lining up to cast spells at him from all directions.

It had been a long sixteen years, but Harry was back in the wizarding world, and he was already starting to regret his involvement.

* * *

Sixteen years.

Ginny Weasley sat beneath the gaping English Oak tree, and was watching the cloudy, ominous sky through the gaps of the vein-ridden pristine leaves. They whispered undecipherable secrets in the soft wind as the green tips rustled upon one another.

She gazed up at the sky and begun to hum a song. Her voice was clear and unwavering, beautifully complimenting the stillness of the night, and if one wanted to, they would have been able to discern the words to her tune.

_Happy birthday to me,_

_Happy birthday to me…_

Her beautiful voice faded away, and she was left with a melancholic sadness. Today was Ginny's sixteenth birthday, and despite being surrounded by her loving family, she felt empty. She knew she was just being childish, and she even felt rather childish, but she had wanted Ryan Potter to be with her.

Of course, that was unimaginable. She was certain Ron would scoff at her, and tell her to lay off his friend. The twins would tease her mercilessly, and her mum would just give her a look of pity, the kind that you give to someone when you don't have any words to console them on their loss.

For sixteen years Ginny had loved Ryan Potter. Her earliest memories were those of the stories about the Boy-who-lived that her parents would tell her at night. It was just a little girl's infatuation at the time, but it was more than that now.

When Ryan had saved Ginny from the basilisk in her first year of Hogwarts, she had fallen in love with him all over again. This time it was more than just a fascination with a fairy tale. This time it was a teenage crush, and not just any crush, but a crush on the man who had quite literally saved her life, and with a sword no less. If that wasn't her knight in shining armour, then Ginny didn't know what was.

Ginny had been ready to throw off her shy, stammering attitude, and finally act like a normal girl around Ryan, but he had never given her the chance. Ginny didn't blame him for that, he had his best friends Ron and Hermione, and he'd just defeated the memory shade of Lord Voldemort. Ryan had more on his mind, and closer friends to talk to afterwards. Ginny understood that, but it didn't mean that she had to like it. The only time she had said anything to Ryan after the chamber incident, was at platform nine and three quarters as he said his final goodbye's to everyone.

And all Ginny could do was stammer, blush and mumble a single word.

_Thankyou._

She didn't even know if he had heard her. He hadn't seemed to even acknowledge her, as he had simply turned around and ran over to his loving parents. Ginny picked at the grass on the ground, tearing up the green blades with her fingernails. Since then Ginny had barely talked to Ryan. She had joined Ryan's DA lessons last year, hoping she would have more chances to speak with him, but she never did. Ryan was always busy with something, or in trouble, or surrounded by friends.

That was something else Ginny didn't have much of, friendship. Although no one blamed her for the Chamber of Secrets incident, especially after Dumbledore's compelling speech, people remained nervous to talk to Ginny. They seemed scared that if they said the wrong thing, she might flip out again, and set a basilisk loose, or something else equally ridiculous.

Ginny could count the number of her friends on one hand. Hermione had always been there for her, kind of like the older sister Ginny never had. Luna talked to Ginny, but that was probably only because she was as lonely as Ginny was. Neville let her sit next to him when she wanted to do homework, and the two found solace in their silence. Lastly, Dean Thomas talked to her quite often, but she wasn't too sure how she felt about that. She knew it was just a teenage boy thing, but he seemed a bit too interested in Ginny's body than herself as a person.

None of these "friends" had shown up to Ginny's birthday party, not that she had expected them to. The more she thought about it, the more Ginny realized that they were more of acquaintances than actual friends. The thought only worsened Ginny's already miserable mood, and she once again brought her gaze up to the forlorn, gray sky.

"I wish," she said softly, hoping that some sort of angel or god was listening intently, "that I had friends. I wish that the nightmares would stop."

"I wish that Potter and I could fall in love with each other."

Ginny had not been expecting much, perhaps a shooting star, or a firework exploding off in the distance. What she had not been expecting was for a gigantic, roaring motorcycle to come crashing into the ground.

It had been sixteen years, and although this may not have been her shooting star, perhaps it was a sign that she'd finally fall in love, and be loved by Potter.

* * *

**Hope you guys enjoyed what's there so far. Please Read On!**

**Cheers**

**-Council**


	2. First Impressions

Harry Potter groaned in pain as his beloved motorbike smashed into the ground in a less than adequate landing. As the front wheel seared into the loose grass, tearing up the thin green carpet and sending ugly brown dirt fragments showering into the air, his chest slammed into the dashboard, and he grunted as the breath left his lungs, leaving him gasping for breath. The carbon fiber plated motorbike was precariously balanced on the front tire, which was half buried in the ground, while the back wheel spun uselessly in the air, making a strange and unhealthy clicking noise.

Struggling to catch his breath, Harry tore off his midnight black helmet and tossed it to the ground. The tinted helmet made a loud thump as it hit the ground, and Harry hoped he hadn't just cracked his visor. As he leant backwards on the bike, stretching his lungs, the change in weight caused the bike to slam backwards into the ground. The back tire spun its way into the dirt, and now both tires were equally stuck in the garden.

Harry had by now noticed that it was indeed a garden he had crashed into. When he had shot out of the water like a bullet he had forgotten that he was out of dragon breath, the essential fuel involved for flying the magical bike. It had spurted out weak coughs of flames for half a minute, before failing spectacularly, and sending both bike and rider down towards the earth. Harry had narrowly missed flying his bike through a rickety looking, but obviously magically supported, four story wooden house. It was quite the piece of abstract art, but in Harry's opinion, you'd have to be either crazy or incredibly confidant in the magic structural support to live there. Instead of crashing into the house, Harry had plummeted into the garden, leaving a trail of destruction behind him.

Harry was finally was able to draw his first deep breath of air since crashing, and after slamming the kickstand into the ground he swung his leg over the bike and slid to the ground. Instantly he dropped the cloth backpack to the ground, which made a loud thump, seemingly suspiciously heavy in contrast to the size of the bag.

"Sorry about that," Harry muttered to the bag as he began to massage his raw shoulders, sore from carrying the heavy weight for the past hour. He would have preferred to stand there for hours simply relaxing in the weightless feeling he was now experiencing, but he knew that his crash would not go unnoticed by the wizarding family in the rickety house, and he had already had enough encounters with wizards tonight. Harry peeled off his precious leather jacket. It was one of the few gifts he had ever received in his life, and he planned to keep it in perfect condition for as long as possible. In the moonlight the jacket appeared to be black, but in reality it was tinged with a very dark emerald green, contrasting very nicely with Harry's own green eyes. The fact that it wasn't black though meant that oil and grease stains would stand out none too nicely, and Harry's next task was bound to create a little mess.

Beneath Harry's jacket was a tight fitting, cotton black shirt, which was already sporting and hiding several grease stains in the dark material. When Hagrid had given Harry the motorcycle for his 14th birthday, Harry had been both ecstatic and disappointed. It was an amazing gift, but he had been far too scrawny to use it properly. Maintaining such an incredible bike meant that one had to be physically strong. Hagrid had of course had no problem carrying the bike over his shoulders, but Harry could barely carry 40 kilograms at that age. Since then, Harry had been working out at Muggle gyms several times a week. The two years had paid off, and Harry's broad shoulders, pronounced chest, and powerful arms had changed him from a boy to a man.

But no matter how strong Harry trained at the Muggle gym's, he simply couldn't lift the 300 kilogram motorcycle like Hagrid could. After much heaving and pushing, he managed to push the front tire out of the ditch the tire had made had made, but when he moved onto the back tire, the front tire slid back in the hole again. Harry growled in frustration as a metal spoke on the bike tore through his shirt and drew blood, whilst staining his skin with shining black grease.

Harry stood up and ran his hand through his messy black hair, unknowingly staining it with grease. His hair was getting long, fortunately not long enough to get into his eyes, which sported black rimmed glasses, but his hair was becoming long enough to be considered a dirty mess. Harry didn't particularly mind the messy look, it was just that it was a hassle to style in the morning.

After checking that the cut on his stomach wasn't anything serious Harry turned back to his entrapped motorcycle and was amazed to see that it was floating several inches above the ground. He gaped at the floating bike, and realized that he wasn't alone anymore. He spun around and instead of gaping at a floating bike, found himself gaping at a ginger teenage girl hidden in the shadows of an oak tree.

There was nothing incredible about her at first glance. She just appeared to be a normal, teenage girl. Not too good looking, but not too bad looking either. Her body was thin and distinctly hourglass shaped, with her hips and chest beginning to become pronounced. The sky was too dark to see her face clearly, but Harry could still make out a spattering of freckles, especially across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. The expansive oak tree she sat beneath was casting flittering shadows across her face creating a mysterious persona, and making it difficult for Harry to see her eyes.

Decided that although he's seen enough wizards for today, meeting a witch wouldn't be so bad, Harry took a step forwards and held out his hand towards the girl. He glanced at his hand, and noticing that it was smeared with grease and dirt, quickly wiped his hands across his already marred jeans in an attempt to clean them.

He held out his hand again towards the shadowed girl, who tentatively took a step forwards into the moonlight. Her right hand was holding her wand, and she was still levitating Harry's motorbike, but the magic couldn't hold Harry's attention anymore. Harry was staring at her fiery hair flowing down her body, past her chest, that seemed to shimmer like molten lava. The only thing more breathtaking were her chocolate brown eyes which seemed to be flashing and swirling with a life of their own. Harry took back his earlier statement; this girl was definitely a good looker. If only her eyes weren't currently puffy and swollen, as if she had been recently crying about something.

"Hey, I didn't hear you sneak up on me, sorry about that," Harry said with a friendly grin on his face that reached his cheerful emerald eyes. He tried to shake her hand, but realized that she was still holding her wand, and he was forced to awkwardly hold his hand in the space between them momentarily, before embarrassingly retreating the hand. If Harry though he was embarrassed though, it was nothing compared to the tomato red flush that was rapidly creeping across the girls freckled faced.

"You can put down my bike if you want, I'm sure it's pretty hard keeping something that heavy afloat," Harry said, worried that the girl might be straining herself.

"I-I'm fine," she stammered, and Harry almost groaned aloud at how nervous and weak her voice was.

"You sure?" he asked persistently.

"I-I'm sure. See look at my hand, it's hardly even shaking," she replied, and it was true, Harry could barely notice the minute shivering of her hand.

"When a teenage girl can lift ten times her weight with this little difficulty, it makes you wonder what use Hagrid's strength is, doesn't it?" Harry said, speaking his thoughts out loud, as he often did when he was alone. He wasn't alone however, and the girl picked up on his conversation. The motorcycle fell to the ground with a crash as her attention was diverted back to Harry.

"You know Hagrid?" She asked, her curiosity getting the better of her nervous stuttering.

"He's one of my few friends. A good man he is," Harry replied. Seeing that the girl was finally done with her spell work, he decided to try greeting her again. He held out his hand, but was once again embarrassed to see that there were still black marks smeared all over. His jeans had done little to nothing to clean them.

Harry was about to pull his hand back when a wooden tip poked the center of his palm.

"_Scourgify_," the girl whispered in a soft, but clear, almost melodic voice. Harry watched in appreciation as the black marks on his hand were scoured off in a matter of seconds. Harry raised his now clean hand up to his face and twisted it around, examining the effects of the magic. A girlish giggling interrupting him from his musing, and he looked up to see the girl laughing at him.

"I didn't think my hands were that funny," Harry muttered to himself, but was secretly pleased that he had somehow made the girl smile. The girl overheard Harry however, and her face flushed even further, thinking that she had just insulted the teenage boy she'd just met.

"I-I'm sorry, I wasn't laughing at your hands, I was laughing at… well…" The girls voice died.

"At?" Harry asked, prodding her. She looked up and Harry smiled reassuringly at her, trying to get her to realize that he wasn't feeling insulted.

"I was laughing at you," she finished meekly. "You're so strange. You're obviously magical, as you crashed here on a flying motorbike, but you act as if you've never seen magic for the most part." Her eyes narrowed in confusion. "The floating charm I used, _wingardium leviosa_, is one of the most basic charms to be learnt, yet you tried to lift your bike by hand. I don't understand you. I haven't even seen you try and use your wand yet. Why?"

"I don't have a wand," Harry said simply, as if this answered all her questions.

"You mean you lost it?"

"No, I mean I never had one to begin with," Harry said, finishing his sentence with a smile, reassuring the girl that he was not offended by her statement.

"I don't understand you at all," the girl said in defeat.

"Well, how about we start with our names then," and for the third time that night Harry held his hand out towards the teenage girl. A grin stretched across Harry's face as the girl finally placed her own hand in Harry's, and the two shook hands. Admittedly, it was more like Harry shaking the girls arms up and down, but it was a start.

"G-Ginny," She stammered, "Ginny Weasley"

"Harry," He replied, "Harry-"

"Potter," Ginny finished for him, before immediately turned bright red, not for the first time that night, and burying her head in her hands.

Harry eyed her carefully. Although he wasn't exactly secretive about his identity, he hadn't been in contact with wizards for sixteen years. How could this girl, (Ginny, Harry corrected himself), possibly know his last name.

"I-it's your eyes," Ginny said, "and your hair, you look just like him."

"Just like Ryan, huh?" Harry said, the cheerful tone in his voice faltering slightly. He didn't like talking about his brother. Hell, he didn't even consider Ryan as his brother. Harry's family were just strangers to him.

"Except for the scar," Ginny whispered.

Harry glanced over at Ginny, and saw that her brown eyes were glazed over, and Harry recognized that she was lost in her own world, probably a world about Ryan Potter. Feeling rather disgruntled for some reason, Harry strode back over to his bike, ready to head off. Along the way he picked up his leather jacket and slipped it back on. He grabbed his helmet off the ground, and after inspecting and discovering no cracks, pulled it over his head.

"W-What are you doing?" Ginny asked, her voice soft and worried.

"Leaving," Harry replied bluntly.

Suddenly Ginny was by Harry's side, both her small hands wrapped around his larger wrist. Her eyes were wide open and puppy like as she started intently at Harry, and he couldn't help but once more notice the puffy marks around her eyes.

"Please don't go, you only just arrived," she begged, "Please stay."

"I can't, that crash was loud, and although I'm surprised your parents haven't checked it out yet, it's only a matter of time." There was a loud crack, and suddenly lights began flickering on in different levels and windows of the house. Harry turned back to Ginny who was now staring at the house in worry.

"See, they're awake now, I've got to leave." Harry swung the heavy cloth backpack over his shoulders, grunting slightly as the weight of the straps dug into his already raw flesh.

"Listen, I'm going to be blunt here. I don't know why you were crying earlier, and I don't know why you're so shy and nervous, but you should snap out of it. Life's too short for you to be hidden away like you are now." Harry swung his leg, and then his body onto the motorbike. He slammed the kickstand off the ground with his right leg, but before he started the powerful engine up, he glanced over to Ginny who was staring in a mix of anger, embarrassment and wonder.

"Goodbye Ginny. I doubt we'll ever meet again, but it's been nice knowing you," Harry said, "And please, don't tell anyone you saw me," and before waiting for any parting words, he flicked the key into the ignition, and moments later the engine was thundering, eager to be let loose to do its job. Harry revved the engine loudly, and then the wheels began spinning. Before Ginny could formulate a response, Harry's bike was already fading into the nearby forest. The headlight of the motorbike could still be followed for several seconds longer, but even the light eventually faded away.

"Goodbye Harry," Harry heard the slightly lost, and confused ginger teenager shout.

* * *

Ginny made her way to the house slowly, stumbling over several fallen and strewn branches, casualties from Harry's motorcycle. She didn't know what to think. Never in her life had she been so confused, not even the chamber of secrets incident had confused her this much. She couldn't stop thinking about Harry Potter, and she knew that was wrong. She loved Ryan Potter, had loved Ryan Potter her whole life, and suddenly she was thinking of the other brother and his deliciously well-toned body.

Ginny slapped herself in the face, and when that didn't work, casted a jolting hex at herself, causing weak electrical currents to rip through her body.

Harry Potter was such an enigma. He was someone who had no records of ever existing; Ginny knew that Ryan was an only child, yet Harry existed. He was obviously magical, except was completely oblivious to basic magic. He didn't own a wand, a wizard's primary magical tool, yet he flew around on a magical motorcycle.

Most confusing, and irritating of all, was his parting statement. Who the bloody hell was Harry to tell her how to act? She wasn't always the shy girl she was around him. She could talk normally with her brothers for hours, and she cooked with here mum every night.

Ginny swallowed painfully when she finally stopped deluding herself. Harry was right; she was a wreck. She could barely talk to anyone outside of her family without embarrassing herself or breaking something. Still, the way he had said it irritated her to no end. He spoke so bluntly, and seemed so accusing, as if it was her fault she was like this. It wasn't her fault bloody Voldemort had possessed her and taken her down into the chamber of secrets.

She would show that git. You don't mess with a Weasley and get away with it. From this day forth, Ginny was a new person, proud and confident. No one was going to stop her, least of all Harry bloody Potter.

Ginny stalked through the back door, slammed it shut behind her, and marched into the now well lit living room. Ginny's new declaration was tested immediately as Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, sat in her living room drinking a cup of steaming tea.

"Why, good morning there Ginevra. Enjoying the early morning are you?" The Headmaster spoke directly to Ginny, not only calling her by her idiotic sounding birth name, but looking her directly in the eyes as he questioned her.

Ginny thought the headmaster was absolutely barmy. Early morning? What in Merlin's name was he talking about? She had yet to even sleep yet. However, Ginny was not yet confident enough to call the most powerful wizard of the century crazy, so she simply let out a little squeak of agreement, flushed bright red, and retreated to the kitchen, knocking over a stack of old newspapers on the way.

Finally in the kitchen, Ginny rushed towards the sink, waved her wand around, and silently summoned a glass to her hand. Instead of filling the glass up with water from the sink, she cast _augmenti_, a water-casting spell, whispering the incantation softly under her breath. She had yet to master casting spells of this difficulty silently, but she was improving every day.

She began to slowly, but steadily, down the glass of water. She felt herself relaxing as the cool liquid flowed down her throat, but only until she glanced at the stovetop. Ginny's mum had placed a small grandfather model clock, only the size of Ginny's hand, above the stove, as a way for her to accurately know how long food had been cooking for. Ginny choked on the water as she read the time.

Her hoarse hacking attracted the attention of the Weasley matriarch, who with a flick quick of her hand, expelled the water from Ginny's air channel.

"Are you alright, dear?" Molly asked as she hovered over her daughter protectively. Ginny's eyes were wild in panic, and the brown iris's were flashing dangerously.

"It's three-fourty five," Ginny whispered.

"Yes, it is dear, it's very early, you should go back to bed," Molly said reassuringly while rubbing her hand in slow circles upon Ginny's back.

"I guess the headmaster isn't crazy after all."

"Indeed I am not, Miss Weasley." The wizened old man was standing in the entrance to the kitchen, and his blue eyes were twinkling in amusement.

Molly looked flabbergasted and ashamed of her daughter. "Ginny!" She admonished angrily. "I'm sorry Albus, she didn't mean that she's just tired still."

"As are we all Molly, as are we all," Dumbledore said, as he smiled at the two Weasley women. It was his famous smile that was known to reassure and calm even the most panicked of witches and wizards. "Alas, it is early, but I'm afraid we will need your assistance Molly, once more with Ryan. He's still not looking good, and his father has yet to recover consciousness."

"What!" Ginny exclaimed, "Ryan's at the Burrow?"

"Yes, he is dear, he just arrived, but he's injured and-"

"Will he be alright?" Ginny said, her voice panicked and laced with worry. She barely even recognized that she had interrupted her mum, something even the twins feared doing.

"Enough Ginny," Molly said. She didn't raise her voice, but the tone had changed to the mothering tone she used when she wanted to be listened and obeyed to. "Ryan will be fine. You'll see him in the morning. Until then, go up to your room and go back to sleep." And with her harsh words administered, Molly swept away from Ginny, and practically glided up the stairs in her haste to reach Ryan.

"It already is bloody morning," Ginny muttered once her mother was out of earshot. Unfortunately, Dumbledore was still standing beside Ginny, and heard the words perfectly. He gave a soft chuckle as he glanced over at the young red headed witch.

"I presume that it is not truly the morning yet for a stargazer such as you, Miss Weasley," Dumbledore said calmly, but his words carried a trace of amusement in them.

"I-I wasn't stargazing, sir," Ginny said, cursing her stuttering. She hadn't mentally prepared herself for her personality change, and her earlier motivation was already beginning to crumble. She just wanted to lock herself in her room and never leave.

Dumbeldore turned his body, and knelt down so that he was facing Ginny directly at eye level. His piercing blue eyes had lost their earlier sparkle, and now seemed to be analyzing Ginny's mind.

"May I ask what you were doing outside so late at night then, Miss Weasley," Dumbledore asked, but it didn't sound like a request, rather more like an order.

Ginny opened her mouth to say how she had met the non-existent Potter twin, named Harry, and how confusing, wonderful and irritating he was, but then she remembered Harry's final words.

_And please, don't tell anyone you saw me._

Ginny closed her mouth, swallowed harshly, and then responded in a soft, despondent whisper, "Nothing sir, just thinking about my birthday."

Ginny had expected the headmaster to complain about her obvious lie, but surprisingly he didn't. Instead, he stood up with a satisfied smile on his face that made Ginny shiver uncomfortably for some strange reason.

"Of course, Miss Weasley, I did not mean to pry," Albus said, his voice calm and sincere. "Please tell your mother that I returned to Hogwarts, if you would be so kind.

"O-Of course, sir," Ginny replied, her voice barely audible.

Fawkes burst into the living room in a brilliant spectacle of flames. The majestic bird flew around the room once, leaving behind a faint trail of sparks, before perching on Dumbledore's shoulder.

"Ah, and Miss Weasley, Happy Birthday. It is not every day one turns sixteen. Perhaps you should reward yourself by visiting the young Mr. Potter?" And with a mischievous twinkle in his bright blue eyes, Dumbledore vanished from the Weasley residence in a burst of flames.

Ginny had turned bright red, and was extremely glad that the headmaster was no longer here to witness it, as it was a very impressive shade of red. Ginny was exhausted, embarrassed and confused. Today had been too long of a day, she thought, as she dragged her heavy body up the stairs to the third floor where her small bedroom was located.

She collapsed on her soft, plump mattress without taking off any of her clothes, not even her shoes, and was asleep before she could ponder whether that was really such a good idea.

* * *

Ryan Potter blearily opened his eyes. His head was throbbing angrily, the same way it always did after he woke up from one of Voldemort's nightmares. For once though, the pulsing, agonizing pain in his scar was the least of his pain. He found it had to breathe, and he knew the reason why. Severed skin was spread across his chest in a straight line, evidence of the slicing curse Voldemort had launched upon Ryan. Several of his internal organs had been punctured, and although through magic it wasn't a miracle that he was alive, it had still been a close encounter with death.

He wished he had his glasses on, as his vision was currently too blurry to see anything. He flinched in surprise when cool fingers slide along his cheeks, but calmed immediately when he discovered that they were simply putting his glasses on for him. As his vision returned he found himself staring at an unfamiliar, but not overly unpleasant face.

"G-Ginny?" Ryan exclaimed, stuttering in his confusion. The usually quiet ginger teenager giggled at him.

"It's usually me that stutters when we talk," Ginny said, her voice not overly loud, but clear, confidant, and calm. Ryan could only stare at her in shock. In all the time he had known her, she had never spoken like that, much less made a joke, around him.

"Are you alright Ginny?" Ryan asked, concern showing on his face. Was it possible she was imperiused?

"I'm just fine, a little peaky, but nothing some coffee wouldn't solve," she replied, once again seemingly perfectly content speaking with Ryan, who knew that she had had a crush on him for the longest time. In fact, Ryan had though she still did. Perhaps he had been mistaken?

"Am I alright?" Ryan asked himself, and when Ginny's attractive giggling could be head, he seriously began doubting his own sanity.

"Well, I wouldn't quite say you're alright. The potions mum gave you are still restoring your internal organs. But in a few hours you should be good as new." She suddenly gave him a rather predatory smirk before continuing. "Even that scar on your chest will fade completely."

At this point Ryan was about ready to jump off his bed screaming about imposters and polyjuice potion. Ginny Weasley, Ron Weasley's sister, his best mates sister, who hadn't said a single complete sentence to him in her whole lifetime, had just flirted with him. Admittedly, it was a poor attempt, but still, as they said, it was the thought that counts.

Fortunately, Ginny left the room before Ryan was forced to stand up and reopen his already painful wounds. Before she closed the door though, he heard her leave a passing message.

"I'll talk to you again later, alright Ryan?"

And then the door slammed shut.

Ryan decided that instead of pondering what on earth just happened, he would prefer to close his eyes and fall back asleep, and maybe wake up and realize that had all just been a dream.

If it had just been all a dream though, then it had been a damn good one, was Ryan's last thoughts before he faded back into darkness.

* * *

Ginny Weasley was slumped against the wooden door of the guest bedroom, which Ryan was currently occupying. Her hand was over her chest, and she could feel the erratic and rapid pumping of her heartbeat through her skin.

She had done it. Ginny had shown that bloody Harry Potter that she could be confident. It had been one of the scariest and most horrifying minute of her life, rivaling waking up in the chamber of secrets, but she had done it.

Picking herself off of the door, the red headed witch skipped up the stairs towards her bedroom. The teenager was ecstatic, and her emotions were running high. Not only had she had a normal conversation with the Boy-who-lived, but also she had actually made him flustered. She had even attempting subtle flirting, and the response had been perfect. Ryan had been practically speechless.

Ginny cast a silencing charm over the windows, door, and hole in the ceiling of her bedroom, before squealing in exhilaration. She collapsed in the bed, and rolled around on her already crumpled sheets. Ginny hadn't felt so alive since, well, never! For the first time in her life, Ginny felt like an ordinary teenage witch, and it felt incredible.

Too excited to remain lying on her bed, Ginny pushed herself upright, and skipped over to her vanity dresser. She began pondering how she should style her hair today, and what kind of make up Ryan would appreciate the most.

Ginny giggled as she remembered her comment about Ryan's chest. She had seen him shirtless, and she had to admit that he didn't look that bad. A small, guilty part of her mind wondered what Harry would look like shirtless, but before Ginny could let herself fantasize, she squashed those thoughts, and returned to her vanity dresser.

Ginny's thoughts were solely of Ryan Potter for the rest of the day.

* * *

Harry parked his motorcycle in the quaint car park that belonged to the backpackers hostel. He slammed the kickstand down into place, pocketed the keys, and after shouldering his extraordinarily heavy backpack, marched into the hostel entrance.

A pleasant woman in her mid thirties who was more than happy to be housing a guest at this unpopular time of the year greeted him. She led Harry upstairs to a vacant room that contained two beds, as Harry had explained that he would soon be obtaining company. For the cheap price of twenty-five dollars for the night, Harry had secured his sleeping location for the night.

Harry was more than certain that Dumbledore would be unable to follow him here. The only reason he had been discovered earlier was because of Voldemort's extravagant display of magic, which had tripped off several of Dumbledore's magical sensors. For the past half an hour, Harry had sacrificed any magical abilities, and driven his motorbike along the highway like a normal citizen in a desperate attempt to throw off the headmaster of Hogwarts. So far it seemed to have paid off.

Harry was about ready to collapse on the bed and pass out. He had been awake for twenty-two hours by this point, and exhaustion was quickly claiming Harry's mind. Unfortunately he had one more important task to take care of.

He carefully lowered his cloth backpack to the wooden floor, and loosened the knot that held the top of the bag together. Despite the ordinary, and rather shabby appearance of the bag, it was in fact a magical object, given to him by none other than Hagrid. The half-giant had claimed that it was made out of moleskin, which had the unique property of being able to store an incredibly large amount of objects within a small bag. It was quite ingenious really, and an excellent way to carry gear while travelling, except for the weight problem.

The problem was that as more objects were added to the bag, it not only became heavier, but more dense, making it more and more difficult for one to wear the backpack without tearing the skin upon their shoulders. Currently, the moleskin backpack contained several objects, but there was one particular heavy, weighing about 35 kilograms.

With a few solid tugs Harry loosened the opening of the backpack and reached a hand within.

"You can come out now," he called out loud, and what happened next would cause a Muggle either a heart attack, or an appointment to the nearest therapist. Out of the backpack that was barely bigger than a shoebox climbed an eleven year old girl. Her body seemed to be materializing from absolutely nowhere, perhaps similar to what a Muggle wormhole in space might act like. The blond hair was the first part that could be seen, followed by two, pale arms that grasped at the edges of the bag, clutching at something in a desperate attempt for freedom. Harry grasped a tiny wrist in each hand, and with a soft grunt, lifted the girl out of the bag and deposited her upon the soft, spare mattress.

"I'm sure there's a Disney princess movie that starts off something like this," Harry said as he watched the girl examine her surroundings.

"There isn't, I would remember, trust me," the girl replied, her maroon eyes sparkling with intelligence as she gazed into Harry's own emerald eyes that were darkened from a lack of sleep.

"Well, maybe we should write it then?" was Harry's last coherent sentence before he passed out, and fell backwards onto the soft, cushioned bed.

* * *

**Before you all scream heresy at me, know that I know that you would know that Ginny's character is ooc, and I know that you knowing may mean that you may be unhappy, but just know that I know this, and know that she will become a bit more OC in the future. (know know know!)**

**Cheers**

**-Council**


	3. The Letter

Harry woke, not to the sound of chirping birds as he had expected, but to the morose sound of muffled sobbing. It took his still waking mind several seconds before the gears clicked into place, and he could recall the horrific events of the night before. That flying Dark Lord had raised a whole village. Quite literally, hundreds of Muggles were dead, and exactly one wizarding couple. Their only child was still alive however, but Harry briefly wondered whether such a life was worth living. Harry was an orphan, by a certain definition, but he had been an orphan since he could remember. This young witch would have bittersweet memories of her parents for the rest of her life.

But when Harry raised his head off the pillow and stared gently at the crying girl, he realized that any kind of life was always worth living. The next few years of her life would probably the hardest imaginable, but life was worth the pain, always.

Harry yawned loudly, purposefully announcing his awakened presence to the little girl, and pushed himself off the addictingly comfortable mattress. He heard the girl's sobbing cease instantly, and as he glanced over at her small frame with her head buried in her pillow, he noticed the intense, almost paralytic state of her body, as she went rigid in shock. Perhaps she had forgotten that Harry had been in the room at all.

Harry sat on the edge of his bed awkwardly. It wasn't that he was bad with children. He had spent a month doing heavy labour at a kindergarten last year, and was able to interact and play with the children everyday. It had been one of the more enjoyable jobs Harry had been forced to take in his life.

Harry had never had any experience with calming down crying children though. Anytime a child had started crying, Harry had passed them off to the teacher in charge. Those incidents were usually only over scrapes and cuts though. How on Earth was Harry meant to calm an hysterical eleven year old girl who had just witnessed her parents' death.

"Hey, are you alright?" Harry asked lamely. The girl perked her head up at the sound, and stared at Harry with lost, forlorn brown eyes. Her blond hair was a ragged mess, haphazardly stuck to her cheeks and neck. Before Harry could contemplate his next wise words of counseling, the girl launched herself at him and began bawling her eyes out into his chest. Harry gingerly wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close. Perhaps Harry wasn't meant to calm her down. Maybe he was just meant to let her cry it all out of her system.

And that was exactly what happened. For the next hour Harry held the girl snuggly to his chest as she drenched his torn, grease stained black shirt with her tears. Neither said a word, but simply held each other tightly, desperate for physical contact.

Eventually the girl's sobbing faded to a faint hiccupping. Relieved that she had finally worn herself out, Harry began to loosen his hold around her, but a small voice stopped him.

"Please don't leave me," the orphaned witch whispered, her voice cracking as she begged Harry.

"I'm not going anywhere, don't worry," Harry whispered reassuringly, as he began to rub soft, slow circles upon the small of her back. "I'm not going anywhere," Harry repeated, and he would repeat that sentence again and again for the longest hour of his life.

They were finally distracted by the loud, embarrassing rumbling of Harry's stomach. He groaned in shame, but was relieved to see the witch's cheeks stretch slightly at his situation. She didn't laugh or chuckle, but the slight smile on her lips was enough for Harry.

"Come on, let's go get some breakfast," Harry said quietly, to which the girl nodded, and reluctantly slipped off of Harry's lap and crept back over to her mattress. Harry look at his shirt in disgust, before tearing it off his body and dumping it in his moleskin back pack. He proceeded to reach his hand in the bag and replace it with a white sleeveless beater. He slid it on; slightly uncomfortable with his bare arms on display, but it was the only other article of clean clothing he currently owned. He glanced down at his denim jeans, and was relieved that apart from the slight grease smudges, they were relatively clean and untorn.

He glanced over at the witch who was sitting on her bed closely observing his movements. She was dressed in her sleeping gown, as that was the condition that Harry had found her the night before. Harry had only been at the village for a fortnight, and had been planning to stay for longer, as he had secured a rather pleasant job helping out as a mechanic at the local garage. He hadn't been in town long enough to really get to know the people, but that hadn't made the horrible massacre last night any worse.

The first signs that Harry had noticed anything was wrong was when the smell of smoke began creeping in through his semi-closed window of the small apartment he was renting. Thinking it odd that he would be able to smell smoke, but not hear any fire brigade sirens, Harry had stepped outside to investigate. In the dark, midnight horizon Harry could see a single house on fire. He paled instantly at seeing the fire for several reasons. First, the fire was sickly green instead of the expected lively orange, and second, the building on fire was constructed completely of concrete, but even the concrete was being set ablaze. The whole scene reeked of dark magic

Harry was about to run over to the house to help evacuate any trapped individuals when the building he had been sleeping in moments earlier exploded. A chunk of the tiled roof smashed into the side of Harry's face, and he was knocked unconscious before his body hit the ground. When he regained consciousness half a minute later, the scene that greeted him was abysmal. The ravenous green flames had spread across the majority of the buildings, and were creeping through windows and setting the insides ablaze. The horrific sound of desperate screams combined with the unmistakable scent of burnt flesh was quickly making Harry sick. He stumbled to his feet, pushing a large piece of wooden wall off of his leg and ran in the opposite direction of the unnatural green fire in fear.

His fear, although at the time had disgusted him, had unknowingly saved his life. If Harry had proceeded over to the burning buildings, the toxic purple smoke would have infiltrated his lungs, rotting away his internal organs, and he would have been dead by daybreak.

As it was, Harry unknowingly ran from one danger to an even worse one. As he sprinted away from his apartment, he had decided that his best course of action would be to secure his motorbike, which was currently residing at the garage half a mile away. It was on the way there that Harry met the young witch for the first time. She was with her parents, who were trying to herd a small group of citizens away from the fire and to safety. The parents each sported foot long sticks in their hands, and were using them to banish rubble out of their path in their escape attempt.

As Harry neared them, the father moved over to him and grabbed Harry's shoulder.

"Follow us, it's not safe here. You might not believe me but that's-"

"Magic," Harry finished for the panicked wizard. The wizard looked at him in surprise.

"You a wizard?" he asked.

Harry nodded in confirmation. "But I can't fight, I don't know how to," Harry quickly added, before the man got any ideas of asking Harry to help fight.

"That's fine, you can still help me. None of these Muggles have any idea what's going on. They won't believe me when I tell them that the purple gas is like a neurotoxin," There was a loud bang, quickly followed by the sound of a collapsing building. The wizard looked around fearfully, before quickly turning back to Harry.

"Listen, my wife and I might not make it through the night," Harry tried to protest, but the man shook Harry's shoulder violently. "No, you listen to me. We might not make it, and if we don't, take care of our daughter for us. It'll only be for a few weeks, until she can go to Hogwarts, then you're free for the rest of your life."

"Please, I beg you. It's the only thing I ask of you."

The man's desperate gaze tore at Harry's consciousness. The last bloody thing he wanted to do was look after a child, and he was about to say just that, when he caught the mother's gaze. Her eyes were empty and dull. She had accepted her fate, and knew she was going to die this night. Despite that, she continued to murmur words of comfort to her eleven year old blond daughter. Harry couldn't stop staring. His heart and mind were waging an all out war. He so desperately wanted to look after the child, and supply the mother with at least some form of comfort in her death, but his mind reminded him of the foolishness of the action, and that he was completely unfit to look after a child.

As Harry continued to stare at the pale mother and her hollow eyes, a green light illuminated the sky from above and came sizzling down towards the earth, directly at the mother. The death spell hit her directly in the back, and the woman died instantly. Her face retained the expression of forlorn despair as she slumped to the road, crushing her daughter to the ground.

The wizard beside Harry screamed an unearthly shout of rage and launched a barrage of colourful spells at the sky, each deadlier than the next. Only one spell hit the target, and even then, it was deflected back onto a Muggle with a loud cracking noise. The cracking noise alerted Harry and the Wizard to the direction of the attacker, and the two turned their heads towards the moon, to see a bat like silhouette gliding in front it.

"Damn you!" The wizard beside Harry screamed at the floating Dark Lord, before commencing a duel by firing off a screeching cutting curse. Harry stood staring at the two wizards dueling until a dangerous looking yellow hex caused him to dive out of the way. After seeing the mother's death, and the father's sacrifice unfolding, Harry realized he had no choice. He sprinting over to the mother, jumping over a recently crafted crater in the ground, and pushed the dead body mass off of the crying child. Before the girl could have time to complain, Harry swept her off of her feet and over his broad shoulders. He turned and ran in the direction of his garage, which was barely a hundred meters away, but the girl was struggling too much, and slipped out of Harry's grasp. He tried to pick her back up, but she slipped out of his grasp and ran towards her father.

"Daddy!" she cried, as she stumbled towards him, tripping over a dead body sprawled on the road.

The father turned away from his duel for only three seconds. In that time he cast a red, stunning light at his daughter before she could reach him. He immediately turned back to his duel with the Dark Lord. Harry scooped up the now unconscious girl and after resting her on his shoulder began running out of the battle zone.

"Daddy will always love you!" The wizard shouted out, as Harry carried the girl away.

They were the last words he ever spoke.

Harry arrived at the garage seconds later, and glanced around the room full of tools and equipment, looking for a strap of sorts to hold the unconscious girl down on his motorbike. Unable to find anything, and rushed for time, Harry tore open his mole skin bag hidden in the glove box and gently lowered the girl within. The bag had an expansion rate of four times, meaning it was four times bigger on the inside than the outside, making it quite an impressive and expensive magical item. With the bag being about forty cubic centimeters, the inside was over a meter and a half tall, easily big enough for the young girl, but not large enough that she'd hurt herself after Harry dropped her in.

Harry donned his leather jacket, tugged on his tinted helmet, slung the now incredibly heavy backpack over his shoulders and slid himself on his midnight black motorbike. He kicked the kickstand back with one solid boot, and revved the engine, before accelerating out of the garage door at a dangerous speed.

Little had Harry know that the dark lord would be following him on the highway minutes later.

The little girl in her pajama's tugged on Harry's shirt lightly, trying to get his attention. Harry looked at her and smiled softly. After all the horror's she had seen, the girl was still functioning. Her brown eyes were still seeping sadness, but her cheeks had more colour in them than earlier.

"Excuse me mister, but I'm really, really hungry, can we go eat breakfast?" she asked, her blond falling in front of her face as she hid behind it in her nervousness.

"It's Harry, Harry Potter," Harry said, hoping she's pick up on that rather than 'mister', which made Harry feel not just uncomfortable, but also old. "And yes, of course we can go get breakfast. I wouldn't have it any other way."

"My names Willow Grande," The girl, now known as Willow, said as she held out her hand in what was meant to be a formal gesture, but came across more as cute than anything else. Harry shook her hand in mock formality, before the two grinned at each other. Willow didn't laugh, but a grin was still an improvement.

"Can we go eat waffles?" Willow asked, and they would have gone to go eat waffles, if it wasn't for the tawny owl crashing into the window with an almighty bang.

"Bloody hell," Harry exclaimed, as he walked over to open the window and retrieve the unconscious bird, which was now precariously perched on the windowsill. He carried the bird inside and gingerly placed it on the table. It opened one amber eye, gave a soft hoot, which sounded both apologetic and thankful, before passing out again. As it passed out, the letter in its claws fell loose, and slid across the table.

"So this is the famous wizarding post, huh? Guess I haven't been missing out on much." Harry muttered as he picked up the letter. It was composed of very thick, papyrus paper that was tinged yellow in what could only possibly be old age. There was a wax seal with an imprinted 'H', but that was not what had Harry's attention. Rather, it was the coat of arms that included a lion, a servant, a badger and a raven that held Harry's gaze.

"Bloody hell, this is a letter from Hogwarts," Harry murmured.

"Bloody hell…" a soft voice from beside him echoed. Harry glanced at the girl, and noticed that she hadn't said the 'bad word' on purpose, but rather it had just slipped out.

"Jesus, I'm going to have to stop swearing around you," Harry said to himself.

"Jesus…" the soft voice echoes again, causing Harry to shut up, sit down and open the letter, but not before he turned it over to the backside and read the mailing address.

"What the f-"

* * *

Minerva had developed something of a habit over her many years of teaching at Hogwarts. Every year, on August the 11th, at midnight, the acceptance letters would be sent off via owl post to the soon to be first year students. The letters were magically produced through the Headmasters fireplace, which used the Hogwarts database to determined family lineages, children's ages, and then finally, a powerful tracking charm would record in ink the current living location of the child.

As the deputy headmistress of Hogwarts, Albus had readily handed the job of delivering the letters to the owls to Minerva, a job she was only too pleased to do. Before sending off the letters, Minerva would sit on her hard, wooden stool at her desk and slowly read through the letters, memorizing the names of the new students. She could still remember her fascination as an eleven year old child discovering that she would be going to a school of magic, and couldn't help but smile as she began imagining the expressions of shock and joy that would arise on the children's faces when they received their letter.

A soft smile was playing on Minerva's usually stern features as she saw a familiar surname. It would seem that James Brown, the youngest child of the Browns, and brother of Lavender Brown. Minerva had seen Lavender and James interact with each other, and she knew that despite the 5-year age difference, the two were as thick as thieves.

The soft smile on Minerva's face froze in place as she turned over the next letter. She stared blankly at the address on the letter for a long time, until the unnatural silence of her office began to bother her.

"Willow Grande," the aged professor whispered, "Never in all my years have I seen such…" but what exactly Minerva had never seen could not be described by her, as she was rather unsure about the whole thing herself. Deciding that the best thing to do in such an anomaly would be to contact Albus, she grabbed the letter and strode off at a brisk pace to the Headmaster's quarters.

She promptly arrived at Albus's office but was surprised to discover that he was absent. She even hesitantly checked his sleeping chambers, but they were, of course, empty. Minerva could list the number of times she had seen Albus sleeping on one hand. Content to wait, as other than mailing the letters, she had little else to do over the leisurely summer break, she conjured a hard back pine stool beside the plush looking guest chair, and made herself as comfortable as one possibly could on such a chair.

It was not until four in the morning, according to the faint rays of light peeking through the grand, semi-circle window in the middle of the office, that Albus returned. He stumbled through the fireplace in a cloud of green fire, and collapsed upon his own, purple, plush armchair, that had gold inlays spiraling around the deep mahogany armrests. The chair had cost Albus a fortune, but it had been worth every knut. He sat slumped in his chair for several seconds, and Minerva was worried that he hadn't noticed her presence, until he began talking.

"It seems that events are catching up to me faster than I can keep up with Minerva," The grey and wrinkled headmaster said sadly, his voice fatigued with exhaustion. Minerva forgot about the silly little letter she had brought up with her. Whatever had happened to the Headmaster was infinitely more important than a piece of parchment.

"What's the problem, Albus?" she asked.

"There are a few problems," Albus admitted, "But the most threatening problem is that Voldemort has finally made his move." Minerva gasped, which covered up her uncontrollable twitch whenever she heard You-know-who's name.

"What did he do?" Minerva whispered, fear colouring in her voice. It wasn't necessarily fear of the Dark Lord, although he was terrifying, but rather fear of the horrors of the inevitable war that would now occur.

"Tom wiped out a village of fifteen hundred."

"In one night!"

"In one night," Albus confirmed solemnly, nodding his head.

"Were there any survivors?" Minerva hated asking this question, but she had to know.

Albus stared at her for several long seconds, and it was a look that Minerva hated to see. It was the look the Headmaster gave people when he was pondering how much information he should disclose to them. Minerva was one of Albus's closest friends, but the fact that he hesitated to tell her the truth hurt her.

"Do you remember the Grande's," Albus asked Minerva solemnly, but it was a useless question. Albus knew that Minerva remembered every student that had ever passed through Hogwarts since she had become a professor.

"No, not them," Minerva whispered, her glasses slipping off her face as she bowed her head in shock. "Anyone but them."

"Alas, but it was them. Even their daughter was murdered," Albus replied.

There were very few times when Albus had ever been wrong. He had made bad decisions in the past, and several mistakes in the last war, but when it came to solid information and facts, Albus was very rarely wrong. Minerva now had the proud pleasure of being one of the few people still alive to prove that Albus was not as all knowing as he seemed.

"You should read this Albus," Minerva said as she drew the letter from earlier out from her robe and slid it across the desk. Albus stared at the letter, clearly unamused. Minerva gave the letter one final push, prodding Albus to pick it up. He eyed her curiously, but amused her, played along, and picked up the letter.

Albus's eyes scanned the words in a clearly uninterested fashion, and he was about to drop the letter back on the table, when his tired brain finally comprehended the meaning behind the message. His blue eyes snapped into focus, and he examined the letter again, far more closely.

_Ms W Grande_

_The Backpack on Harry Potter's Shoulders_

Albus stared at the letter, frantically trying to fit the pieces of this particular puzzle together.

"What does this mean Albus?" Minerva asked. Who was this Harry Potter that was spoken of? There were only three Potter's alive in this day and age, James, Lily and Ryan. This 'Harry' should not exist. Even more confusing, why was the child of the recently deceased Grande couple living in his backpack?

"I don't quite know myself Minerva, but this letter just happens to solve one of my many problems." Albus stood up, filled with renewed energy. He waved his wand twice over the letter, and Minerva recognized both charms. The first was a tracking charm, which would enable Albus to track the letter, and the second was a notifying charm, which would notify him when the letter was opened.

"Now if you'll excuse me Minerva," Albus said as he handed the letter back to the confused professor, "I have some things to prepare for." Albus marched out of the office and down the stone stairs, but not before grabbing a handful of lemon sherbets from his desk. The stairs rumbled as they extended themselves for their esteemed headmaster, while Minerva was left in the office alone, her face still twisted in confusion.

"But what does this all mean?" she asked the empty room.

"You can keep asking yourself that lass, but you're never going to find an answer that way," one of the portraits responded.

* * *

"…do you understand? You must never, ever repeat what I just said," Harry told Willow, his voice serious.

"You mean what the f-"

"NO! Stop it, don't say it, I forbid you," Harry shouted as he collapsed back on his bed. "Bloody hell," Harry murmured. Her parents were going to kill him in the afterlife if he continued to raise their daughter like this.

"Bloody hell," Willow agreed wisely, echoing Harry, who simply groaned at his unfortunate situation. Harry was rubbing his bare arms in irritation. He looked up at the heavy, metal fan that was swinging slow, dreary circles upon the ceiling. It was attached only by a thin metal cable, and it looked like a good, solid smack would send the whole contraption falling down.

Harry stood back up and pulled the tight clinging singlet back around his waist so that it was properly covering his chest. He picked up his moleskin backpack and dropped it on his bed, and began rummaging through it for his black leather jacket. Harry was having trouble finding it however, as having Willow in the bag had messed up his carefully organized belongings.

"You can open up your letter by the way, no sense in waiting," Harry called out to Willow, while his head was stuck in the backpack. Harry heard the faint and expected rustling sound of paper being torn and opened, but it was followed by a loud crack, reminiscent of a gunshot, which caused Harry to react on instinct, and withdraw a Winchester 12 gauge shotgun from his enlarged backpack. Harry spun around on the balls of his feet, and had the dangerous weapon pointing at the intruder only seconds after the cracking sound.

Albus Dumbledore was standing in front of the only entrance to the room, having apparated directly in, holding a beaded, elder wood wand aggressively in his wrinkled hand. He stared at Harry's weapon in surprise, but there was no fear in his eyes.

"I'm surprised that you would carry such an item of death with you," Albus said, his voice carrying a tone of disappointment, as if Harry had failed some sort of test.

"I'm not surprised that you carry such a similar object in your hands," Harry replied, his voice low and cold.

"You mean this," Dumbledore said calmly as he waved his wand around in front of him, fortunately not casting any spells, merely showing off his dominant position in the current standoff. "A wand does not create solely death, Harry Potter."

"And neither does my shotgun. It saves lives, Albus Dumbledore." The butt of the Winchester was pressed firmly into Harry's shoulder, and he was thinking rapidly, trying to figure out his options. Harry didn't know how Dumbledore had found him here, nor why the manipulative old man was here, but he knew it couldn't be anything good. Dumbledore had been ignoring him for sixteen years. There could be no possible good reason for Dumbledore to now be trying to contact Harry.

More importantly, Willow was standing in the corner of the room and was beginning to break down. It had only been minutes since Harry had calmed her down, and the sudden appearance of shotguns and wands was obviously traumatizing her. Harry needed to get her out of harms way before she became fully petrified. Harry didn't think it was Willow Dumbeldore was after, but he wanted to make sure she would be safe.

"Don't be a fool Harry, you must know that a Muggle weapon like that can't possibly hurt a wizard like me," Dumbledore bragged. Unfortunately for Harry, he knew that the wizard's claim was probably true. Although not knowing the specifics, Harry knew that wizards could stop incoming projectiles just by waving their wand.

So instead, Harry raised the Winchester to the ceiling, and squeezed the trigger closed with his index finger. The shotgun blew backwards, punching into Harry's shoulder, but he kept a firm grip on the weapon, and preventing the recoil from manipulating the aim of the shot. The scattering of metal slammed into the base of the heavy, metal fan, tearing the flimsy support apart.

Dumbledore, having seen the glint in Harry's eyes, waved his wand in front of him moments before he expected the muggle weapon to fire, expecting the bullets to be aimed at him. Dumbledores impenetrable shield was therefore useless, glowing and crackling theatrically in front of him, as the shotgun shell passed far over his head. Dumbledore had no time to cast another spell to deflect the now incoming, spinning metal fan. As the object collided with the aged wizard, and sent him smashing into the wall, Harry yelled at Willow to run to his bike and hide. The girl had panic flashing in her brown eyes, but she fortunately listened to Harry, and now that Dumbledore was no longer guarding the door, she slipped past and ran downstairs, her bare feet padding softly on the wooden stairs.

Harry pumped the next round into the Winchester, and holding the weapon with one hand towards Dumbledore's fallen body, used his other hand to haul his backpack over his shoulder. The old man's body was strangely still, and Harry wondered if the fan had knocked him out, or even possibly killed him. Perhaps he had gone overboard? It wouldn't have been the first time.

Harry took a step forwards, when suddenly his body froze, as if every muscle in his frame had been locked into place. Instead of collapsing to the ground however, he was lifted several feet off the ground, until his black, messy hair was grazing the plaster ceiling.

"Thought you'd be able to get the better of me, Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore said from behind him. Except that was impossible, for Dumbledore's unconscious body was on the floor in front of him. But as Harry examined the body further he noticed that it was too unnaturally still, as if it was a doll of some sort. Harry felt like an idiot. The Headmaster had obviously just cast a transfiguration spell of some sort on an object in the room to create a look-a-like doll.

"I would prefer if you respond when I ask you a question, Mr Potter," Dumbeldore said. Harry found his body slowly rotating in mid air, until he had twisted a full 180 degrees and was facing his opponent.

"I defeated Grindelwald, the greatest Dark Lord this world has seen in a long time. Did you honestly believe a teenager with a Muggle toy could stop me?"

"Well, you know what they say, you don't know if you don't try," Harry replied, a smirk on his face, which only grew wider when Dumbledore grew more furious.

"Sit down, Mr Potter!" Dumbledore bellowed, swinging his wand downwards, slamming Harry onto a wooden chair that had not been beneath Harry several seconds ago. "I did not come here to fight you, or trade witty comments with you, but rather to talk to you. Will you grant me that pleasure?"

"It's not like I really have an option, do I?" Harry muttered darkly.

"Excellent, let's begin then shall we," Dumbledore said, his voice suddenly cheerful, and without a trace of anger. His devious blue eyes were twinkling, a sight which truly worried Harry.

"I'd like to offer a proposition, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said calmly, ignoring the fact that Harry was desperately trying to break free of the invisible bonds keeping him in the chair. "I want you to come to Hogwarts and learn magic."

This caused Harry to stop writhing in his chair. "What do you mean, let me come to Hogwarts? I was meant to be there six years ago, why the change of heart now?"

"That is not for you to know, Mr Potter," Dumbledore replied mysteriously.

"Then I'm not going," Harry said, his voice as blunt as his decision. Dumbledore stared at Harry like a goldfish, his eyes wide and unblinking.

"What do you mean you're not going," the old man replied incredulously.

"It means exactly what it sounds like. I'm not going. I don't know why you want me back in the magical world, but it's obviously not a good reason for me. I don't want to be involved in your problems, so I don't want to go."

Dumbledore looked at Harry, disappointment back in his features. The old man sighed before pulling an envelope from within his cloak.

"Then I have no choice. I didn't want to resort to such measures, as I believe no child should be denied a Hogwarts education, but if you refuse to go to Hogwarts, then I will tear this envelope. It contains the legal documents permitting one Willow Grande to attend Hogwarts. You wouldn't want me to accidently tear this and ruin all possibility of young Willow attending Hogwarts would you?"

Dumbledore smiled as he watched Harry's defiant expression slowly shatter to one of despair and defeat.

Dumbledore gave himself a mental pat on the back, followed by a magical massage that soothed his temple. Dumbledore may have been a manipulative bastard, but in his mind, if that's what it took to lead the light to victory, then so be it.

"All we wanted was some freaking waffles," Harry muttered under his breath, and as the boy closed his eyes in exhaustion, Dumbledore quickly reapplied the glamour charm on his face, covering the red, open wound the metal fan had caused upon impact. It would do no good for the Harry to know that he had injured one of the greatest wizards of this age.


	4. Diagon Alley

The busy streets of London were alive with vibrant life that all but ignored the unique couple standing in the middle of the sidewalk. The taller, broad shouldered man appeared to be struggling to decide which of the two buildings in front him was the correct one. He ran a hair through his messy black hair, before running a finger across the top of his rimmed glasses.

"Where are we going Harry?" Willow asked.

"Diagon Alley. The headmaster of Hogwarts told me how to get there, but I forget if he said that the entrance was in the Leaky Cauldron or Vern's Fish & Chip bar," Harry replied, confusion etched on his face. Fortunately, Harry was saved from making a fool of himself by the arrival of a familiar, distinct figure.

"Hagrid!" Harry called out to the eight foot man. The giant of a man spun around at the sound of his name, and beetle black eyes flashed in happiness and recognition.

"Harry, yer a'right! I've be'n worried abou' ya ever since Dumbledore discovered ye." The giant's face crinkled into a smile of relief as Harry shook the strong man's hand, managing not to wince at the iron like handgrip. Hagrid appeared to suddenly realize something, and he leant in close to Harry, his eyes nervous.

"Ye can't be here Harry, s'not safe. Dumbledore will find ya straigh' away," The giant said worriedly, glancing around to see if anyone had recognized them yet.

Harry clapped the giant on the elbow, the highest part he could reach without exerting himself. "It's too late Hagrid, Dumbledore already found me this morning. He's bringing me back to the wizarding world."

"Tha's marvelous Harry. Err, ah mean, is tha' marvelous?"

"I don't know Hagrid. I've wanted to be part of the magical world my whole life, but now that I'm being blackmailed in, I suddenly feel far less optimistic."

Hagrid's eyes narrowed on the word 'blackmail'. He hadn't known that Dumbledore had found Harry, let alone threatened the poor kid. Harry had already been through enough in Hagrid's opinion, and didn't deserve any of this.

"It's not as bad as it sounds Hagrid. I made a few conditions with him to sweeten the whole thing up a bit," Harry said, quickly trying to calm Hagrid before the giant blood caused him to do something reckless.

"Like?" Hagrid questioned.

"He'll be paying for any repairs, enhancements or fuel for my motorbike," Harry said, a wide grin on his face, which turned out to be contagious, and caused Hagrid's cheerful smile to return.

"O' course tha's wha' ya asked for," Hagrid said, chuckling.

"He's paying for the schooling fee's and supplies for both Willow and I. Oh, and also providing accommodation during the summer holidays."

"Who's Willow?" Hagrid asked. Hagrid could not see any one other than Harry in view.

"You can come out Willow, he's not going to hurt you," Harry said loudly, an amused smile playing on his face. A small head poked out from behind Harry. Hagrid could see one of the small hands clutching onto Harry's leather jacket.

"But he's a giant! All giant's are scary," Willow complained, her eye's regarding Hagrid fearfully. Harry chuckled lightheartedly.

"Well, this one isn't. He's a friendly giant, like the BFG, or something like that," Harry said, and the mention of one of Willow's favourite Muggle stories caused her to throw away any misconceptions she may have had of the daunting man. She gripped two of Hagrid's large, hairy fingers in her small hand, and shook the giant's hand whilst she introduced herself. Harry was relieved that Hagrid didn't attempt to squeeze Willow's hand back, as Harry didn't want to have to deal with any broken bones.

"So wha' are you two doing 'ere?" Hagrid asked.

"Trying to find Diagon Alley. Do you know if the entrance is in the pub, or the fish and chips bar?" Harry asked, relieved he finally had someone to ask.

"Why the pub o' course! Why the ruddy 'ell would the entrance to Diagon Alley be in a Muggle shop?" Harry glanced back at the fish and chips restaurant, and was forced to admit that it was incredibly Muggle, with Muggle waiters and Muggle customers. He probably could have been able to figure that one out on his own.

Hagrid led the way into the Leaky Cauldren, which, iconic to it's name, was shaped as a large, black cauldren. Harry assumed that the building must be hidden from muggle's as the unique architecture would have been sure to garner far more attention than it was currently receiving. As it was, the pot-like bar seemed practically deserted.

If the outside of the bar could be considered gloomy, than the inside could be compared with a vampire lair. A heavy layer of smoke hung at the ceiling, obscuring the ceiling from view. The only customers were heavily clothed or cloaked loners drinking by themselves, or reading in solace. Strange smells surfaced from the various drinks that were being served, which caused Harry to believe that alcohol may not be the only source of beverage drunk in the wizarding world. The bartender eyed the relatively normal looking trio as they entered the bar.

"Well, Mr Potter, you've grown since I last saw you, and I must say it's a change for the better," the balding bartender said to Harry in greeting.

"I wish I could say the same for you, but I've never met you in my life, sir," Harry replied.

The bartender scoffed. "Surely you remember old Tom, right Ryan?"

"The names not Ryan. It's Harry. Harry Potter." Harry sighed as he saw the look of confusion, shock and disbelief flash across Tom's face, and he wondered how many times this was going to happen today before he snapped.

"B-but that's impossible," Tom stammered.

"Honestly, you people live with magic everyday of your lives, and you still have the gall to say that things are impossible." Harry turned to Hagrid. "Could you please lead the way to Diagon Alley?"

"Righ' away Harry," the half giant replied before trudging off to the back of the bar where the brooms, mops and dustbins were stored. Unlike the dark, musky feel of the bar, the small storeroom was composed of bright bricks, and a sandpaper coloured floor.

"This is it," Hagrid announced proudly, and Harry felt his heart dropping slightly. Out of everything he had imagined the wizarding shopping complex to be, an empty small room, too small for Hagrid to stand up straight in, had not been in Harry's calculations.

"So how do we purchase stuff?" Harry asked, staring at the blank walls that surrounded him.

Hagrid slammed one of his heavy palms into his face. "Ah, I forgo' Harry, you've never be'n 'ere before, 'ave ye? Tap tha' brick there. Three up and two across."

Harry stared at the solitary brick, unamused. "Tap it with what, Hagrid?"

"Well with yer wand o' course?" Hagrid said, looking at Harry expectantly, before slapping his hand to his face again. "I'm sorry again Harry, I forgot ye don' have a wand yet. 'Ere, move over and le' me do it." Harry and Willow awkwardly shuffled around Hagrid's big frame as the giant withdrew an umbrella from his giant, furry trench coat. He tapped the solitary brick (three up and two across), and Harry watched in fascination as the brick slid and dissolved within it's neighbouring brick. The bricks continued to slide outwards, like a deck of cards being stacked together, until a giant arch, easily big enough for Hagrid to walk though, which was quite disorientating, as the roof of the storeroom was still too short for Hagrid to stand up straight in, had formed.

"Welcome, Harry, and Willow, to Diagon Alley," Hagrid said, waving his arms in front of him in an extravagant gesture, nearly knocking an elderly witch unconscious in the process. The two school kids, one young and one old, both stood within the arch with identical expressions of shock and amazement playing on their face.

"Bloody hell," Harry whispered.

"Bloody hell," Willow agreed, before quickly receiving a tap on the head from Harry.

"Don't repeat those kind of words," he reprimanded, and the blond girl stuck her tongue out at him in retaliation, but their argument was cut short by the wonders of Diagon Alley.

Willow skipped ahead of Harry and Hagrid, pressing her face to every window that she could reach, and gawking at the various magical supplies, objects, ingredients and animals that she could see.

"What's with the girl Harry, tha's not like you at all," Hagrid asked, making sure that Willow was out of earshot.

"I know Hagrid, but I didn't have a choice. She's an orphan," Harry replied, sorrow colouring his voice. Hagrid glanced over at the girl who was currently laughing and smiling as if she didn't have a care in the world.

"How long 'as she been one?" Hagrid asked.

"Since last night," Harry replied.

"Tha' long?"

"That long," Harry confirmed.

"Wha' happened?"

"A dark lord attacked the village we were staying in. Dumbledore told me this morning that it was Voldemort." The elderly lady that Hagrid had nearly knocked unconscious overheard harry, and gave a loud shriek when Voldemort's name was mentioned.

"Don't say his name Harry, ah don't like it," Hagrid said nervously, glancing around to reassure himself that the Dark Lord in question wasn't watching.

"Right, sorry Hagrid. It's just so overwhelming. I mean, I thought he was dead! I thought my brother killed him all those years ago. What is he doing back now?"

Hagrid looked at the panicking boy worriedly. He loved Harry like a son, ever since the day he had passed out in Hagrid's hut, and it pained him to see a sixteen year old kid so stressed.

"I just don't know what to do Hagrid. Dumbledore obviously wants me back because of Voldemort for some reason, but what on earth can I do? I have absolutely no magical training."

"Yer a wizard entering the magical world at the age of sixteen Harry. It means yer gonna see the world differently from the res' of us. That, if anything, will be yer greatest power here." Hagrid clapped Harry on the shoulder, and Harry was glad he had bulked up so much in the past year, else Hagrid would have sent him sprawling onto the cobble ground.

"Now, you don' 'ave to worry abou' any of this You-know-who stuff. Leave that to Dumbledore, the grea' man he is. For now, get yer shopping done. You got money?" Harry reached into his backpack and pulled out a sack containing a substantial amount of metal coins.

"Dumbledore gave them to me before he left, per say our agreement."

"Tha's good. I dunno if the goblin's would let ya access the Potter vault if you needed the money." Hagrid stopped at the entrance to a sloping, dank looking alley. There was a dented, battered signpost that hung to the side of the alley that read 'Knockturn Alley'.

"I've gotta go now Harry. Take care of yerself. And now tha' you'll be comin' to Hogwarts, make sure you come visit me."

"Of course Hagrid. Take care, I'll see you in a month," Harry said, and waved goodbye to the half giant as he trundled down Knockturn Alley.

"Where did the BGF go?" a small voice asked, and Harry glanced down to see Willow staring down Knockturn Alley.

"He had to do his own shopping. Now, come on, we have lots of our own shopping to do, and the days running short." Harry glanced around for a good place to start shopping. A particular word on a shop caught his attention, 'wandmaker". Harry pointed out the shop, known as Ollivanders, to Willow, who squealed excitedly, and demanded that they go immediately. Harry was more than eager to comply, and the two entered the dark, overcast store, while a loud, chiming bell signaled their arrival.

The shop appeared to be empty, which was fortunate for Harry, as he was in no mood to wait in line for a wand. He strode forwards and tapped the customer bell. The chiming echoed throughout the deserted shop, and Harry wondered if there was even a shopkeeper in right now. Harry glanced down at Willow, who shrugged her shoulders at him, and turned back to the front desk.

Harry was unafraid to admit that he screamed when he saw the upside down head floating in front of him where before there had been nothing. Giant beady eyes stared intently at Harry, and pale whisps of hair hung down the side of the gaunt face. Eventually Harry was able to tear his eyes off of the head, and stared at the ceiling to discover that the head was in fact attached to a body, which was most curiously attached to the ceiling by the man's shoes.

"Not to be rude sir, but why are you upside down?" Harry asked, whilst simultaneously trying to calm his raging heart beat.

"It helps to reach the more difficult of the stored wands I have in stock," the strange old man said, before he waved his wand, and slowly floated and rotated back to the ground, feet first of course. The amused smile on the man's face suggested to Harry that he enjoyed walking on the ceiling for more than just practical reasons.

"Are you the shopkeeper?" Harry asked.

"Indeed I am. The name is Ollivander. And you are-" Ollivander stopped talking, and after a moment, his tongue poked out of his mouth and licked his lips. "Curious, yes, very curious," he murmured to himself.

"What's curious, sir?" Harry asked, unable to contain himself.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, and every wizard I've sold one to, but I just can't seem to remember selling you a wand, which makes me think that I never did." Ollivander's face had drawn steadily closer to Harry's, until his large, beady gray eye was only an inch from Harry's emerald eye. When Harry felt their noses touching, he automatically took a step backward, eager to reclaim his personal space.

"You're obviously magical, and obviously British, and I'm the only wandmaker in England, which makes me wonder where you received your wand?"

"I didn't, sir. I mean, I don't have a wand, I never received one," Harry replied, and was relieved when Ollivander finally drew back from Harry.

"Ah, so that's the answer to this riddle. Well then, my boy, may I have the pleasure of knowing your name before I sell you one of my wands?"

"Harry Potter," Harry said proudly, even though he knew that in a few moments he would most probably be irritated by his family name.

"Ahh, Mr Potter, the invisible twin." Ollivander leant forwards until his lips were beside Harry's ear, and whispered, "You're not even supposed to exist." Before Harry could reply, Ollivander was gliding backwards, straight through the solid wood of his front desk, and began scavenging through his haphazardly piled stacks of wands. Harry stepped forwards and cautiously tapped the wooden desk, and was unsurprised to find that it was completely solid, despite Ollivander ghosting through it just seconds earlier. Magic truly baffled Harry at times.

Ollivander returned with a handful of wands clenched in his hands. He had Harry hold all of them for no longer than a second before snatching them out of his hand. Thirty seconds later Harry had been through a dozen wands, and was feeling rather confused about the process. He had thought he would get to choose his wand, but Ollivander had simply claimed that 'the wand chooses the wizard'.

Harry eventually felt his frustration building up, and when he touched what was possibly his fiftieth wand, he glared at the wooden stick in frustration, and discovered in his glee that he'd set the wand on fire. Ollivander snatched the wand back with vigour unexpected from such a frail looking man, and instantly doused the chuckling flames. Ollivander, however, did not put the wand back instantly, but instead stroked it softly, whilst murmuring to himself. Eventually his black, hollow eyes snapped up to Harry.

"Aha, I know just the wand for you, Mr. Potter," Ollivander said gleefully, before diving under his desk, which must have been charmed like Harry's backpack, as Ollivander's body disappeared completely form view. After much grumbling, shuffling, and slamming, Ollivander resurfaced with a wand.

"Redwood, twelve and a half inches long, imbedded with the tail of a salamander," Ollivander thrust the rich, light brown stick into Harry's fist. "Go on, Mr. Potter, give it a wave," the wand maker said eagerly, colour surprisngly returning to his usually hollow black eyes.

Before Harry waved the wand he knew it was the one. He amused the wand maker however, and gave the stick a wave, not expected himself to perform any sort of magic. Instead, Harry unwittingly cast a rolling wave of roaring flames to cascade throughout the shop. Harry dropped the wand in a panic, hoping that it would cause the flames to disappear, but the flames remained, sizzling and crackling angrily. Harry began panicking, thoughts of his past arising to his head, and before he knew what he was doing, he had leapt over Willow and covered her body with his.

Harry had not had to though. Ollivander appeared to have expected Harry's magical outburst, and was calmly waving his hands, much like a musical conductor might, and the hungry flames slowly played harmlessly throughout the shop, until they finally fizzled down to sparks, which harmlessly popped on the floor. Ollivander lowered his hands, and a faint shimmering around his wooden shop could be seen as the powerful flame resistance charm collapsed. Harry shakily stood back up, releasing Willow from his powerful grasp. He swallowed painfully before hesitantly reaching down to pick up his fallen wand. As his hand slowly reached the wand, it began vibrating and shaking eagerly, inching closer to its master's hand.

Harry grasped the wand in his hand, and as he stood back up, he admiring the stick with new found respect and fear. Harry glanced over at Ollivander, who was watching him eagerly.

"Well done, Mr. Potter. I presume you now understand when I say that the wand chooses the wizard." Harry continued to stare at the redwood stick in awe. After several attempts, he managed to swallow, and he spoke.

"How did you know this wand would choose me though, Mr. Ollivander?" Harry asked.

"Let me ask you a question first, Mr. Potter," the beady eyed man leant back into Harry's personal space, but Harry stood his ground this time, curious to hear the question. "Do you have a natural affinity to fire?"

Harry paled, and felt the blood leaving his head. His vision began to blur, and he placed a hand on the thankfully solid wooden counter. He took several calming breaths before looking back up at Ollivander.

"I've been able to create fire with my hands before. I've never been able to do it at will. Only when I, well, when I feel… angry," Harry admitted. "I… I burnt a building down by accident once," Harry spoke in a quiet voice, unsure as to why he was admitting this to the overly curious old man.

"That," Ollivander stated proudly, "Is why I knew that particular wand would choose you. Just as your mother was unmatched in charms," Harry flinched at the mention of his mum, "and your father was exceptional in transfiguration," Harry paled slightly, remembering that he had knocked his father unconscious less than 24 hours ago, "you, Mr. Potter, have a natural affinity for the conjuration and manipulation of fire. Be incredibly wary of your power. Fire just as readily harms as it does protects." Ollivander's nose was touching Harry's nose, and the high tension in the room was broken when Ollivander sneezed, and was blown back several meters, once again right through his desk as if it was an illusion.

"That wand," Ollivander continued, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, "contains the tail of a salamander, a magical beast known for its familiarity with the element of fire. The redwood however is not usually a fire conductive wood. This particular strand of wood came from the heart of a redwood that stood protectively over an expansive and beautiful forest for over two thousand years. When a terrible fire ravaged the forest, the seventy meter tall redwood consumed the fire, and whilst saving the forest, crumbled into nothing but ash, and a single, chunk of wood, directly from the heart of the tree."

"Redwoods don't usually have an affinity for fire, Mr. Potter, but this particular piece of wood has experienced the pain and suffering that fire can cause." Ollivander's black eyes locked onto Harry's in an unbreaking gaze. "Not unlike someone else," the old man finished, causing Harry to step backwards, and tear his gaze off of the curious old man.

"My turn, my turn," Willow cried out, causing Ollivander to give her a faint smile.

'Of course, Miss Grande. Anything for one as patient as you," he replied, before going through the whole process of selecting and snatching away wands from the excited little girl. Throughout the process Harry examined his newly acquired wand. The rich, brightly coloured wooden wand held no traces or scars of ever having sacrificed itself to a fire. Harry held the wand in his hand, and willed flames to appear at the end. Nothing appeared, to Harry's initial disappointment, and final relief. He realized that he didn't want to burn down Ollivander's shop when the shopkeeper wasn't paying attention. When Harry poked the end of the wand however, he yelped quietly when he discovered the tip was scorching hot. He hadn't created fire, but it was something, and that was enough for Harry.

He carefully laid the wand on his lap, and thought about what Ollivander had told Harry. He didn't particularly enjoy having himself compared to an inanimate piece of wood, but he had to admit that the similarities were there.

"Do you think we can get along?" Harry whispered to the wand, and immediately felt both stupid and insane for talking to a piece of wood. A cheerful, bird whistling sound suddenly erupted from nowhere, and Harry glanced up to discover Willow holding a short, ironically willow, wand, which was glowing with a faint blue light, and which Harry assumed was the source of the pleasant music.

"Interesting," Ollivander said to himself, "The feather from the phoenix may mean she'll excel in music based magic, much like the phoenix song…" The wizened old man's voice faded away, and he disappeared from view, but not before muttering something about fourty galleons. Harry reached into his enlarged backpack, pulled out the smaller, but still enlarged, sack of gold coins, and carefully counted fourty before leaving the dark, ominous store.

The duo marched up Diagon Alley, which was quickly becoming more familiar and less foreign to the two of them. Willow was still prancing around, this time with her wand in her hand, but she was no longer gawking at the magical items, but rather just staring curiously. Harry noticed that quite a few wizards were giving Willow some disapproving looks, which slid over to Harry when they realized he was the one looking over her. After Harry passed by a plump, stern looking witch with a head full of red hair who muttered "Honestly, letting her wave her wand around like it's a toy," Harry decided that Willow and he should quickly proceed their purchases before they made too big of a scene.

Therefore their next stop was Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Harry took one look at the exuberant prices, and decided that, even with Dumbledore's generous donations, he would much prefer to purchase his robes someplace cheaper, perhaps at Nix and Knox's Knick Knack Shopping, which appeared to be a second hand store. Harry refused, however, to allow Willow to own second hand robes, so after dropping her off with Madame Malkin, who all but tied the poor girl up with her assortment of magical tape measures, Harry ran over to the second hand store.

When he walked in, Harry knew he had entered the perfect place. It reminded him of the time's he would be forced to search and scour the mechanic markets for individual parts to particular models of cars. Items were haphazardly portioned around the shop in their different categories. Harry grabbed several sets of black robes that more or less fit him. Honestly, Harry thought to himself, robes were so baggy and roomy to begin with, that no one would ever be able to tell the difference between tailor made and off the rack. Harry had fun trying on several kinds of wizarding hats, but after realizing they all made him look like a pompous fool or a crazy animal fanatic, decided against headgear.

Harry didn't find any enchanted articles of clothing around the shop, but he wasn't surprised. Harry's backpack would've been worth more than the two wands purchased earlier, and wands were not cheap as it was. Enchanting clothing was such a delicate and precise job that any form of an enchanted item was incredibly expensive. Harry couldn't even begin to imagine the cost of owning a wizarding house, which must be full of enchanted furniture and appliances.

Harry left the store with some extra black leather gloves, several scented candles, an half empty vial of waterproof fuel, three sets of black summer robes, one heavy set of winter robes, and some Muggle based clothes, but with wizarding designs imprinted upon them. Harry had decided that if he was going to live in the wizarding world from now, he might as well fit in with the trends. Better to be seen wearing a Fireflies t-shirt instead of a Billabong one. He also purchased a large roll of what appeared to be magically tanned leather, which Harry knew he would be able to fashion into something useful in the future.

Harry paid for the items, which came to fifteen sickles and twelve knuts. Not even a whole galleon was spent, which was a rather different story when he entered Madam Malkin's, and was immediately badgered for fifteen galleons for the first year clothing package. Despite being outraged with the exuberant price, Harry happily paid for the items for Willow's sake. If the girl was going to go Hogwarts as an orphan, than she was going to go in the best possible fashion she could.

They continued to follow their shopping list, Harry content to go out of his way to buy some off-the-list things for Willow that she seemed attracted to, like a book on magical baking, but Harry strictly only purchased what was on his own school list for himself. Even at the bookshop, which had some titles that greatly interested him, Harry refrained from purchasing anything, reminding himself that there must be some sort of library at Hogwarts, containing all the books he might want or need.

The magical shops pertained their intrigue throughout the day, as Harry and Willow continued to purchase cauldrons, bat eyes, rat tails, pig spleens, snake scales, and enough herbs and spices to stock a kitchen. They looked enviously at the broomsticks, none of which could fly as fast Harry's bike, but they still looked slick and stylish. They walked by Gringott's, and stared in fascination at the knobby, wrinkled goblins guarding the entrance. Most extravagant however was a brightly lit shop, magic lights shining like neon lights, with occasional firecrackers exploding out through the wacky, crooked chimney. An obnoxiously large sign above the entrance doors had the same letter thrice repeated.

_WWW_

_Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes_

Harry and Willow glanced at each other, before shrugging, and making their way into the tightly packed shop, quite an impressive feat, because not only was the shop on a large block of land, but was also enlarged through an obviously powerful charm. Inside was what could be compared to a Muggle joke shop, but it was far more magical. Flying, rainbow hamsters were slamming into the walls, fortunately coming off unharmed, but sporting new colours as spots and stripes. There was a spray can that would change one's eyesight to inverse colours, resulting in some rather horrific, looking faces. There were magical bees, striped yellow and black that one could add to a drink to instantly make it sugary sweet, barring magical potions of course. There were also magical bees striped black and yellow instead, that when one would add to a liquid and drink it, they'd spend the next hour buzzing instead of talking. How one was meant to tell whether their bee was yellow and black, or black and yellow was a mystery, but Harry assumed that that was the prank.

All of the jokes were interesting, harmless fun, and despite Willow staring enviously at some of the kids purchasing items, Harry refused to purchase any. Despite the pranks being harmless, Harry wanted Willow to make friends, not to piss everyone off.

It just happened to be that as the duo were leaving, they were greeted by a red headed teen.

"Ryan," the boy exclaimed, who had a freckle covered face, cheery brown eyes, and a mischievous grin on his face. "It's so good to see you here, you should've flooed and told us you were coming around. Give me a sec, and I'll grab my brother," and before Harry could correct the man on his mistaken identity, he was gone. Harry sighed, and decided to simply leave the shop, instead of hanging around and having to explain the confusion. As he turned around however, he was interrupted once again.

"Ryan," the same freckled boy exclaimed, "It's so good to see you here, you should've flooed and told us you were coming around. Give me a sec, and I'll grab my brother," and with that, the boy left once again, leaving a rather perturbed Harry standing at the exit. Deciding that he should leave before the boy with short-term memory loss came back again, Harry grabbed Willow's hand and promptly left the shop, shortly followed by Diagon Alley.

"Where are we going now?" Willow asked Harry as the older boy rolled his motorbike out from the alley he had hidden it in.

"Dumbledore gave us a place to stay until Hogwarts begins. We're going to go visit there now," Harry explained, and watched with a heavy heart as the young girl's face transformed into a crestfallen, grieving expression. Harry knelt down and gave the poor girl a comforting hug, before lifting her up, propping her on the back of the motorbike, and sliding on himself. Before he started up the engine, Willow asked a question.

"Where are we going to live Harry?" she asked, her voice tinged heavily with sadness.

"Number four, Privet Drive."

* * *

Two identical red head twins sat around a table. They had closed their shop half an hour ago, and were enjoying a moment of silence, something they kept an absolute secret from the rest of the world. If anyone ever knew that the world's best jokers since the marauders enjoyed peace and quiet from time to time, they would be ruined.

"What are you thinking about, dear brother of mine?" The one on the right asked, before taking a swig of firewhiskey, mixed with lime soda and a cherry on the top. Contrary to popular belief, the twins were not telepathic, and did indeed have to lower themselves to having mundane verbal conversations to understand each other.

"I'm thinking about lil' Ryan. I just don't get why he left without saying hello,"

The twin who was drinking took another sip before responding. "Neither do I. He practically paid for the shop with his donation. I thought he considered us as friends."

"Maybe he was just busy?"

"Yeah, perhaps lil' Ryan was just busy," one of the twins murmured in consolation, but there was a seed of doubt placed there that night that had the potential to erupt and grow.

* * *

Harry hesitated at the forbidding wooden door. It wasn't forbidding because of any gruesome decapitated heads, or black, sharp spikes, but because the white door was spotless except for the shining, recently polished, golden '4' in the center. Harry glanced backwards at the garden, which was trimmed to perfection, with a beautiful array of colourful flowers, shrubs and hedges. He was certain that instead of the current twinkling twilight, but rather the bright, sunny day, the garden would be even more amazing. The family was most certainly not magical, just as Dumbledore had said. Harry just hoped that he would like his Muggle relatives more than his actual family.

In a single, brave gesture, Harry solidly knocked on the door three times, and when he didn't hear any response, he gave one more powerful hit. Harry could hear the scraping of a chair being dragged back, followed by loud, unbroken footsteps. The door swung open, and Harry almost stepped back involuntarily when he was greeted by a red faced, overweight, balding man who was sporting a ridiculous looking moustache. His checkered jacket had a red sauce stain upon it that looked rather recent, and Harry realized that he might have just interrupted this man's dinner.

"What the blazes do you want, boy?" The man practically shouted. Harry pulled Willow close beside him in an instinctive protective gesture. Harry was trying to think of a way to respond, when a woman, obviously the man's wife scooted to the door.

"Stop screaming Vernon, you'll scare him," the tall woman, with a thin, stretched neck and a pointed nose exclaimed. She turned to Harry with a rather warm expression on her face, which quickly turned into an expression of shock and hatred.

"What are you doing here boy! You know we don't like your kind here," the woman hissed, her demeanor changing completely. The man, Vernon, gaped at his wife for a moment, before making some sort of connection in his head, and turning on Harry, his face furious.

"I knew I recognized you. Bloody Ryan, we've told your parents time and time again we won't have you over here. We won't have it. Now leave immediately," and the man slammed the door shut, expecting no further argument, except that Harry's foot jammed the door ajar, preventing it from closing.

"You have not recognized me correctly then. My name is not Ryan, it never has been, and it never will be," Harry spoke, his voice harsh, but not raised. "I was told I was allowed to live here with Willow for the next fortnight, but obviously, I was mistaken." Harry glared at the couple, who were looking at him in shock. "Don't worry, Vernon, I'll take my leave immediately, I'm obviously not wanted here" and before the couple could reply, Harry stalked off, Willow in his wake.

Harry yanked his motorbike to the side and was about to kick the kickstand up, when he heard an astonished gasp from behind him.

"Is that your bike, boy?" Vernon asked, his eyes greedily staring at the carefully maintained motorcycle.

"Yes, it is," Harry replied carefully, unsure as to Vernon's sudden change in attitude. The big man practically ran over to the bike, and slowly walked around it, examining the finer points of the fascinating machine.

"It's in amazing condition," Vernon mumbled to himself.

"I service it twice a week," Harry replied, proud of his work on the bike. Vernon grunted in acknowledgement.

"I haven't seen this model before, and there's no logo on it," Vernon said, but it was clearly a question.

"That's because it's a custom model," Harry explained, and this time Vernon looked over at Harry with respect in his eyes.

"And you maintain a custom model motorbike twice a week?"

"I've worked at mechanic stores all over Britain for most my life, so it's not very difficult." Vernon stopped admiring the bike, and glanced over at Harry, his eyes contemplating the rather well built teenager.

"Tell me boy, if you're not Ryan, then who the blazes are you. The similarity is uncanny," Vernon asked, giving Harry a second chance.

"My names Harry Potter, Ryan's twin," Harry replied.

"And how come I've never heard of the brat having a twin before?" Vernon interrogated, his eyes narrowed.

"Because the Potter's abandoned me when I was six months old to an orphanage," Harry said, practically spitting the word 'Potter'. Vernon's lips curled up in a smile when he heard Harry's contempt for the unnatural family that had plagued his family's life or the past sixteen years.

"Come on in boy, and you too girly; we're in the middle of dinner, but there's plenty of leftovers for you two to have a meal," and with an apologetic, but firm nod to his wife, Vernon introduced both Harry and Willow into his abode.

* * *

**Harry is not going to be superpowerful. He wasn't superpowerful in the canon, and he's not in my story either. Instead, what will become a recurring theme is that almost EVERYONE will be able to cast what is seen as "advanced magic" in the canon. Wandless magic, silent magic, patronuses, animgus, many characters will be able to use these, simply, because I believe, most wizards and witches should be able to do such things.**

**Cheers**

**-Council**


	5. Hogwarts Express

Harry collapsed to the ground in exhaustion, his ragged breathing sending spasms of pain wracking throughout his over-exerted body. His muscles were burning in searing pain, and not even the air-conditioned Muggle gym could offer any comfort. Dudley Dursley on the other hand appeared relatively calm. He sat on a bench, his sweat soaked gray shirt clinging to his broad shoulders and chest, clearly defining his well-built muscles. Dudley glanced over at Harry, who was currently keeling over on the ground, and chuckled as he held out a hand to his recently discovered cousin. Harry considered himself fit, and rather muscular, but he now realized that compared to an actual athlete, such as Dudley, he was pathetic.

Dudley would be travelling to Hong Kong in seven months to play in the under seventeen Rugby Sevens, and was under a rigorous training course. Despite looking like an obese whale from a distance, Dudley was not only incredibly powerful, but incredibly fast, and had destroyed Harry in their morning runs. Harry couldn't understand how anyone could push their bodies so far, but Dudley seemed to revel in physical exertion. Not only that, but aunt Petunia had explained that the massive amounts of physical activity had caused Dudley to control his anger management problems he had displayed in his earlier years.

All in all, it was safe to say that Harry Potter was highly impressed with his cousin. Dudley had a dream, and was paving his way there with unrelenting determination. Harry didn't even have a dream to walk towards. So it was with appreciation and respect that Harry grasped Dudley's outstretched hand and pulled himself back up on two feet.

"I think we're done for today," Dudley said, chuckling at Harry's exhausted expression. Dudley clapped his cousin on the shoulder as he dragged him towards the changing rooms.

"I'm actually surprised you managed to finish the work out routine," Dudley said, pride colouring his voice, "none of my friends outside the national team would have been able to do that," Dudley finished. Harry felt a burst of pride flood through his body, briefly diminishing his aching joints.

"Thanks D," Harry replied, using Dudley's nickname, a sign that the two relatives were rather friendly with one another.

The two boys stepped into the changing rooms, and after pulling off their sweaty clothes, moved into the showers. Harry groaned in relief as the lukewarm water washed over his body, removing drops of sweat and strains of fatigue. Dudley was in the shower neighbouring Harry's, separated only by the cubicle wall.

"Mum and dad never told me why you're staying with us," Dudley said from his shower, "why aren't you staying with your parents?"

"They don't want me," Harry said, hoping his simple answer would be enough for his cousin. He had only known Dudley for two weeks, and still didn't feel quite comfortable enough revealing all his secrets yet.

"When did they say that?" Dudley asked, his voice disgruntled at hearing about such behaviour.

"When I was six months old," Harry said bitterly. He heard the sound of a plastic bottle, presumably the shampoo, crashing to the ground.

"Bloody hell, you mean they threw you out when you were a baby?" Dudley asked in shock. Harry merely hummed in response, but it was enough of an answer for Dudley.

"Those bastards. My mum and dad would never have done that to me," Dudley said, more to himself than Harry, but Harry felt a pang of jealousy as he listened to Dudley talk about his loving parents. Harry had seen how Vernon and Petunia looked after, coddled and loved Dudley, and it made Harry painfully realize what he had missed in his life. Vernon got on well with Harry, and loved talking about cars with him, but Harry could tell that Vernon favoured Dudley far more. It made perfect sense to Harry, Dudley was their son, of course they would favour him more, but understanding didn't stop Harry's jealousy.

Harry and Dudley stepped out of the showers and began drying and changing. Dudley was oddly silent, as if he were pondering something. Eventually, after spraying themselves with much needed deodorant, they left they gym, and began their walk home.

"Listen, Harry, you're free to stay over at our place any time you want, even after you go to this school of yours," Dudley suddenly said. Harry stumbled as he missed a step. Had Dudley just invited Harry to his home permanently?

"Thanks D, but I don't want to be a burden to your family. I don't belong with a loving family like yours," Harry said, his bitterness at his parents creeping though his façade of indifference. Dudely suddenly stopped walking and grabbed Harry by the shoulder.

"You're not a burden Harry. Dad loves talking to you every night. It took mum awhile, but she eventually got over your whole magic thing. She honestly views you as her second son now, and me, well, you're like some long lost little brother I finally found." Dudley's brown eyes were staring intently at Harry, as if he were trying to convey his honesty simply through his look. Harry felt touched. No one had ever included him in a family like Dudley just had. The orphanage he had grown up in had been a horribly lonely place, especially when compared to what Dudley had just said.

Sure, Uncle Vernon could never be classified as handsome; his pudgy face, ridiculous mustache, and chronic flushed face all detracted from the messy, rude man. Aunt Petunia was as skinny as a fashion model, but lacked all the attractive features the runway walkers had. She was nosy, had a short temper, and a serious case of OCD. What was important though was that Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia truly loved Dudley. Despite all the tension the parents may experience in their life, their home was a stress free, loving atmosphere. It was the kind of life Harry now realized that he craved.

Harry wasn't one for emotional displays however, so he plastered a cheesy smile on his face, and punched Dudley in the arm. He didn't refrain from holding back, because Harry knew that Dudley would barely feel the strike otherwise.

"What do you mean 'little brother', I'm only half a month younger than you," Harry replied, trying to keep the conversation light and humourous, else he collapse into a self-pitying wreck.

"I wasn't talking about age, but how much more I can lift," Dudley said with a smirk on his face. "Now, come on, let's stop by a place I know and grab a drink. I'll show you some cool guys," Dudley said before leading his cousin off to the underage liquor serving bar. "But first, I need to send a letter to someone," Dudley quickly amended.

* * *

Ryan Potter was having an interesting Summer holiday. After the return of Voldemort, Muggle deaths had skyrocketed, but for some reason, the Ministry of Magic still refused to believe in the existence of the Dark Lord. Only Dumbledore and his Order of the Phoenix believed Ryan, and that group barely reached twenty individuals. Despite the lack of numbers, Dumbledore had refused to allow Ryan to join the fights, proclaiming that he was too important of an individual in the fight against evil to lose in a simple skirmish.

To calm Ryan down, James had taken to teaching his son how to become an animagus, and James had admitted to him that he was immensely impressed at the speed in which Ryan was learning. It had only been two weeks, but Ryan had not only discovered his inner animal, but had been able to change his skin texture to a certain extent. James knew that by Christmas his son would be a fully-fledged animagus. It was unsurprising though, as not only was Ryan from a family of talented transfiguration wizards, but he had recently began personal tutoring from none other than Professor Dumbledore, the most talented wizard in transfiguration the 20th century had seen.

Ryan had been carefully keeping notes on his experiences of the animagus training, and was eager to teach his close friends Ron and Hermione the process once school began in September. Being an animagus was an incredible stealth and disguise skill, and could potentially save his friends life in the future, inevitable war.

There had been another problem plaguing Ryan throughout the Summer holidays however, and it went by the name of Ginny Weasley. Ryan didn't know what to think about the girl. His experience with Cho Chang had left him nervous about dating a girl, but Ryan couldn't deny that Ginny was one of the most physically beautiful girls he had ever seen. Lately he had been unable to take his eyes off of her.

Ryan knew when it had started; it had been that moment when he had woken up after Voldemort's spell had struck him, and a confident, brave Ginny had been there to greet him. Ever since then, Ryan had been awestruck by his best friend's sister, something that made Ryan nervous, but he just couldn't seem to help himself.

Although Ryan knew where it had begun for him, he was confused as to the sudden change in the only Weasley daughter. She had always been a shy, nervous girl, never speaking more than two words at the same time. It wasn't that Ryan necessarily preferred her new, more outgoing personality, but rather that the new persona had finally made him realize just how good the red head looked.

Ryan probably would have spent the next few hours rotating between practicing his transformations and daydreaming about a certain teen, if it hadn't been for the arrival of two letters. The Potter's house elf, Twinky, had popped into Ryan's room, and dropped the two letter's on Ryan's desk before promptly disappearing. Ryan looked curiously at the two letters. One was obviously sent via normal means, as he could see the quill and ink writing, and the faint, owl, claw marks around the edges of the envelope. The other was a far stranger letter however; the paper was crisp and white, with a small, rectangular sticker in the top right hand corner displaying the Queen. Ryan thought that this must have been what his mum had tried to describe to him, Muggle post.

Ryan tore open the magical letter first, and was surprised to see that it was addressed to him from Fred.

_Dear Ryan,_

_If you ever want to visit our shop, you don't have to be a sneaky git about it and avoid us. I thought we were more than business partners, but rather friends._

_Fred,_

Ryan just stared at the letter in confusion. He had yet to visit the twin's joke shop, which he had funded with his triwizard tournament winnings, and although he knew it was about time to visit, the letter seemed to suggest that he already had.

Ryan realized that Fred was rather angry in his letter, as the twins had never insulted Ryan in all his life, and suddenly he was being called a 'sneaky git'. Ryan sighed, wondering what he should say to resolve this unknown problem. His hands unconsciously began opening the Muggle letter as he pondered Fred's message.

"How strange, there's no name on here," Ryan muttered to himself as he examined both the envelope and the paper inside. Unfolding the paper, Ryan stared at the three, large, printed words on the inside.

"**Fuck You Potter**"

Ryan just stared at the simple, crude letter in shock. It made no sense. Well, actually, it made enough sense considering the amount of slander that appeared in the Daily Prophet about him, but this letter felt far more personally. Ryan began thinking about who could have sent the letter, and it didn't take him long to come to a conclusion.

"George Weasley," Ryan murmured angrily to himself. This was obviously their way of infuriating him, by sending two very different kinds letters, both insulting him.

"Bloody hell, I'm not apologizing to those two prats if this is how they talk to me. They could at least have the courtesy to tell me what on earth it is they're angry at me about," Ryan said to himself, his anger bubbling. He pointed his wand at the two letters, and incinerated them in a burst of flames. If Ryan had refrained from burning the letters, he would have noticed that the Muggle letter had a return address to number four, Privet Drive.

* * *

Harry's remaining days at the Dursley's passed in a blur. Between spending time talking with Vernon, working out with Dudley, and watching Petunia dote on Willow, Harry had had no time to study his textbooks. Not that it mattered. Harry was being forced to go to Hogwarts, but that didn't mean that he had to do well in his classes. He was doing this for Willow's education, not his.

Harry had spent some of his spare time crafting his wizard made leather into wand holsters for both Willow and himself, believing it to be an efficient way to carry around the rather awkward sticks. He presented the leather holster to Willow the same day that the duo reluctantly left the Dursley's residence to go to Hogwarts. Willow's thin arms gripped Harry tightly around his waist as he rode his motorbike through downtown London, searching for the train station.

They eventually parked the bike and were walking around the bustling, hectic, Kings Cross Station, but neither could find the entrance to Platform nine and three quarters, the supposed location of the Hogwarts Express, according to Harry's mysterious, and obviously magical train ticket.

"This is ridiculous," Harry shouted, kicked a dust bin, earning him several reproving looks from passersbys. He calmed himself down, and glanced at the clock, which read 11:03. The train had already left and Harry and Willow were no closer to Hogwarts than they had been 2 weeks ago.

"What are we going to do Harry?" Willow asked nervously. She was playing with the sleeves of jacket, worrying about whether she was going to be able to go to Hogwarts. Ever since her parents had died, Harry had noticed that the only thing that kept the poor girl going every day was the thought of learning magic at the school her parents went to. Harry would be damned if Willow was unable to go to Hogwarts, so making up his mind, he stalked over to where he had parked him motorbike, Willow close behind him.

"You know what we're going to do? We're going to go chase a magical train," Harry said with a grin on his face, as he kicked the kickstand of the bike back, revved the magical engine, and roared out of the car park. Harry used the bike's maneuverability to swerve in and out of traffic. He was incredibly grateful for the anti-Muggle charm on the bike, which prevented the majority of Muggles from caring that Harry was breaking several road laws. Harry decided that, considering the warm clothes that were needed for the wizarding school, Hogwarts must be further north than London, so thinking it as good of a direction as any, drove north until he reached the countryside.

The moment that Harry was away from prying eyes, he pressed a button on the dashboard, and with a cheer of excitement from Willow and a growl of appreciation from the bike, Harry began flying the Muggle contraption. The bike roared through the sky, quickly gaining altitude, until it was hidden in the wispy clouds. It was soon after Harry reached the clouds that he spotted the crimson, smoke spewing magical train known as the Hogwarts Express. It was rather incredible to watch the train travel. The vivid, crimson tube shot across the countryside faster than any steam train possible could, but the most magical aspect of the train were the wood and steel train tracks. As the train rocketed forwards, new train tracks would form a hundred meters ahead of the train, whilst the train tracks behind the crimson bullet would fade away. It gave the impression that it was not just that train speeding along the countryside, but the train tracks as well, which never reached a length longer than 200 meters.

"I spy with my little eye, something beginning with T" Harry shouted, his voice fighting for dominance against the wind. Willow responded by screaming out, "Train", to which Harry laughed in good humour, and began descending rapidly towards the crimson carriages. Harry didn't want to fly the whole way to Hogwarts, as he didn't know how long the trip would be, and didn't really want to spend the rest of the day on a motorbike. However, when Harry approached the train, his motorbike began bucking crazily, and threatened to dismount its passengers. Harry quickly regained altitude as he tried to steady his strangely animate bike, and was relieved to discover that the bike quickly recovered. Curious, Harry drove the bike towards the train again, and discovered that once again the same phenomenon occurred.

"It must be some sort of magical protection on the train," Harry murmured to himself. He wasn't very surprised. There were school kids on that train, and it was common sense that there be some sort of protection on the train from angry wizards and revenge seeking dark lords, like that Voldemort fellow who had chased Harry down several weeks ago.

"Is everything alright Harry?" Willow asked worriedly.

"Err, kind of," Harry replied evasively, his eyes shifting about sketchily. He dared take his eyes off the, well, not road but rather sky, and glanced back at Willow, who looked on the verge of tears, her brown eyes welling up and her eyebrows furrowed together.

"Don't you worry, I'll get us to Hogwarts," Harry said, confidence layering his voice in an attempt to appease the young girl. "It's just that we'll be biking the whole way."

"Oh," Willow said, almost sounding disappointed that that was the only thing wrong. They flew in comfortable and relative silence for the next hour, until Willow posed an interesting, but dangerous suggestion.

"Can I try flying the bike?"

The question was asked with such innocence and plainness that Harry almost immediately said yes, without realizing what he was agreeing to. His mouth was already open and forming the dangerous conformation word when he realized what she said.

"Y-NO, are you crazy?" Harry said, his voice carrying an undercurrent of admonishment. He turned around to stare at the eleven year old girl, an action that caused the bike to swerve sharply and out of control, perfectly illustrating Harry's view that an eleven year old should not be flying a motorcycle.

"Aww, please, we're so high up that it's not like I can crash into anything," Willow whined, and although her argument made sense, Harry still felt himself warring against the idea.

"No, I'm sorry Willow, but that's my final answer," Harry replied, his voice holding no room for negotiation.

"But I'm bored Harry, what am I meant to do?"

"I don't know, I'm sorry. Play a game or something."

Willow fell silent for a moment, until…

"Are we there yet?"

"No," Harry replied.

"How about now?"

"Nope,"

"Now?"

"No,"

"And now?"

"No, not now!"

"Are we there yet now?"

"No! We're not there yet!"

"But are we there yet now?"

"Just go ahead and drive the bloody bike! Jesus Christ and God save us all," Harry's verbal explosion faded to a murmuring of curse words and profanities that Willow began eagerly drinking up.

Minutes later, Harry had pulled a woven cable out from his mole skin backpack, tied the rope around Willow like a harness, and then attached the cable to his belt buckle, effectively linking the two together to whatever fate had in store.

"Alright, I'm going to lift you over me, and place you in front of me. Now, what is the first thing you're going to do?"

"Grab the handles of the bike in each hand. The accelerator is on the right handle and the brake is on the left. Immediately squeeze down the accelerator so we don't fall," Willow recited.

"Crash and burn is more like it," Harry muttered, before dropping his hands off the handlebars, grabbing the girls waist, heaving her over his head and plunking her down in front of him. Willow scrambled to reach the handlebars, and the girl found herself kneeling on the leather seat in order to be able to see over the dashboard and grab the handles. As she searched around frantically for the accelerator, the bike quickly decelerated, and began to plummet towards earth.

Willow eventually found the accelerator, slammed her hand around the lever and squeezed as hard as she could, causing the bike to accelerate towards the ground at an even faster rate. Harry swore violently, wrenched the girl's small palms from the handlebars, and yanked the bike upwards with as much physical strength as he could, simultaneously squeezing the brake, trying to prevent their collision with the treetops.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief when the bike finally leveled off, travelling no faster than a pedal bicycle, wheels scraping the tips of the trees, but still in one piece.

'Too close,' Harry thought to himself, 'far too close.'

Willow, on the other hand, had other ideas about the whole experience.

"Woohoo, that was fun, wasn't it Harry! Can we do that again? Can we? Can we please?"

"You're never touching the bike again you little minion," Harry said in response whilst he tried to calm his adrenaline pumping body.

"I'm already sitting here, you might as well let me drive now," Willow replied, and Harry simply groaned as he began his re-ascent into the clouds. Once he was back up in the safety of the sky, he reluctantly handed control over to Willow, but only after she had pinky promised that she would not attempt any dives.

Harry pried his stiff, clinging fingers off the handlebar, but even after Willow had wrapped her small hands around the bars, his body remained tensed, and his muscles were coiled. He gripped the bike tightly with his knees and thighs while his hands remained floating beside Willow, ready to take over control the instant things went wrong.

Willow was having the time of her life however. True to her word, she refrained from tipping the bike into any nosedives, but she still managed to give the bike quite a workout. She would swing the bike back and forth, never flying in a straight line. Her bleached blond hair was swept behind her and was being buffeted by the wind, which had the unfortunate side effect of whipping Harry in the face. He usually would have said something, but after seeing the look of pure ecstasy in Willow's brown eyes, something Harry had yet to see since he met her, he decided a little irritation was worth it.

Harry slowly relaxed as it became obvious that Willow was not going to crash the bike at a moments notice, and realizing that the sun had changed from a pleasant touch, to a blistering, scorching burn, he pulled out some shirts from his backpack, folded them into makeshift bandannas, and tied one over both his and Willow's head.

Willow turned her head to thank Harry, and that was when disaster struck in perhaps the most unexpected way. A seven-foot tall creature came screeching through the clouds, flapping its powerful, feathered wings as it swooped into the incoming motorcycle. Harry, being able to see the incoming obstacle, grabbed, the handlebars of the bike, squishing Willow's hands beneath his, and tipped it sideways, sending the bike into a barrel roll. The flying creature squawked in indignation at the loud, roaring metallic beast it had almost crashed into, and the beast snapped its eagle like beak at Harry before continuing its journey.

Harry expertly pulled the bike out its dive, and after re balancing it's aerodynamics, pulled it, for the third time that day, back into the clouds before any bird watching Muggles were to observe a more unique species of flying objects.

"Only you," Harry said in between haggard breaths, "could possibly crash a motorcycle into a flying bird-horse."

"Sorry," Willow said meekly, ducking her head in embarrassment. Harry sighed heavily; it wasn't her fault at all. The hybrid creature had appeared from nowhere, and neither of them had been aware of the existence of such bizarre creatures.

"It's alright, just, well, let me drive for the rest of the trip," Harry said, forcing a smile onto his face. Willow agreed immediately, and after some shuffling, lifting and carrying, they were once again strapped in and settled for the ride.

That was how they travelled for the following hours. Willow dozed off in the afternoon for half an hour, but otherwise, the two chatted about things they spotted in the countryside, and what they expected and hoped to see in Hogwarts. It was a comfortable trip overall, highlighted by the arrival of the sunset at the same time Hogwarts castle came into view.

"Fuck me," Harry murmured as he greedily drank in the glorious view, before instantly turning back to Willow, "Don't you dare repeat that one," he demanded.

Willow just grinned.

Harry turned back to the castle and saw a group of shadowed wizards on brooms burst out of the forest and begin circling the Hogwarts Express. Harry's grin grew wider as he watched.

"Check this out Willow, it must be some sort of welcoming committee," Harry said to Willow, who began looking out with far more interest. Harry began wondering what kind of magic the wizards were going to use, and whether they would use some of those magical firecrackers he had seen in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

The flying wizards approached the train, and when they reached the location of where the invisible barrier that Harry had hit earlier, they jumped off their brooms, and landed smoothly on the roof of the train, presumably using some sort of charm to soften their landing. The broomsticks fell to the ground beside the train and shattered on impact, causing Harry to frown. Surely Hogwarts wouldn't sacrifice valuable equipment like flying broomsticks just for a welcoming committee.

It wasn't until one of the shadowed wizards turned towards the flying motorcycle and launched a spiraling, sizzling curse did Harry realize what he was watching.

He was watching a raid.

The six shadowed wizards were working methodically on the roof of the train. Three of them appeared to be chanting, and causing sparks and smoke to erupt from the crimson roof. The other three wizards appeared to be the guard, with a job to protect the chanting wizards from any threats or hostilities, which at this moment, just happened to be Harry and his flying motorcycle.

Harry knew he was going to regret this later, but as he dodged the dangerous looking curse by braking harshly and swerving to the right, he felt compelled to do something to help the children on the train. Harry didn't know what those wizards wanted with the children, but he knew it couldn't be good.

"Willow" Harry screamed out, "Want to have another shot at driving the bike?"

"Are you sure?" The young girl screamed out, her voice shrill and scared.

Harry didn't respond, but instead reached into his backpack, withdrew a couple of essential battle items, whilst he set the bike on a course to fly over the train in danger.

"Remember, squeeze the accelerator right away," was all Harry said before he leapt off his flying motorcycle into the tango of dark wizards.


	6. The Storm Upon The Train

Time seemed to stop for Harry as he plummeted towards the rocketing, ruby red train. Cold tendrils of wind whipped at Harry's bare face, and rippled at his trademark leather jacket. The surrounding forest cast a gloomy shadow upon the wooden roof of the magical train, while the last strains of golden twilight breached their way through the invasive leaves and branches. A single ray of golden light pierced through the expansive forest, and shined directly upon the black, grizzled mask that marked Harry's target.

Death Eaters, that's what they were, Harry recalled, remembering his brief, and rather hostile conversation with Dumbledore. They were renowned as Lord Voldemort's followers, and Harry understood why the shadowed wizards had the ability to cast such uncontrollable fear and unstoppable terror throughout the wizarding world. Black robes clung tightly to the Death Eater's bodies, allowing for flexibility not allowed within normal, baggy robes. Flickering, rippling black material appeared to be cascading around the dark wizard's heads like a waterfall, and essentially created a magical, constantly shifting hood and cape. The end of the cape looked torn and rugged, but that was only because the silky, magical material would fade away and sputter from existence as it reached the man's ankles.

Most horrifying of all were the masks. A chalk white outline traced the essential features of the wizard, such as tip of the nose, the lower eyelid, the lips, and the base of the ears. Otherwise, the mask was a foreboding midnight black, with the exclusion of the empty eye sockets. Harry could see no eyes at the back of the sockets, but instead, he was drawn in by the hypnotic, blood red, swirling and bubbling pinpoints of light.

Harry swallowed nervously, already regretting his decision of jumping off the motorcycle and entering the fray, but as soon as doubts flooded his mind, the adrenaline pumping through his body lost dominance of his mind, and time sped back up. The entrancing bloody eyes of the Death Eater directly below Harry noticeably widened in shock as he observed Harry's dramatic entrance. Both the Death Eater and Harry reacted upon instinct, and each swung their right arm around. The red eyed demon cast a sickly green spell directly at Harry, who had no chance of dodging in midflight.

Harry's right arm however was holding one of his bulky, winter school robes required for Hogwarts admission, and as his muscled arm swung around, he let the momentum of his action launch the robe in front of him. The wind captured the dark material, and the robe blanketed out like a balloon momentarily, before impacting the green light. With an unnaturally loud thud, the light hit the robe, which instantly began dissolving from the inside out. Demonic green light crackled around the woollen material, before ultimately sizzling away, but not without leaving behind a wicked, burning stench.

With the makeshift shield destroyed, Harry could once again see the astonished eyes of the Death Eater. The Death Eater raised his wand again in order to retaliate, but Harry was accelerating towards the train faster and faster at every consecutive moment, and the Death Eater simply had no time. Harry raised his arm and made first contact with the dark wizard by gripping him around his temple with his outstretched right hand. The Death Eater collapsed backwards from the pressure of the blow, while Harry simultaneously drove his right knee into the man's chest. The Death Eater hit the roof of the train with a sickening crunch, which confirmed the several ribs that had just broken from being pinned between Harry's knee and the magically enforced train roof.

The Death Eater's hypnotic blood soaked eyes glazed over in inky blackness for several seconds, signifying his loss of consciousness. In this time, Harry snapped the man's wand wrist against the train roof causing the unconscious man to drop his wand off the side of the train. Harry briefly wondered if the wand would snap, or, being a highly magical item, would survive the fall.

The sound of painful groaning from beneath him alerted Harry that the rather broken death eater was still alive, conscious, and about to retaliate. Glancing up ahead, Harry saw that the trio of chanting wizards were still chanting, but that the remaining two guards were brandishing their wands threateningly at Harry. Desperate for cover, Harry dragged the fallen Death Eater to his feet, and with his right hand kept a firm grip on his silky, magical cape, and with the other hand, he smashed the nozzle of the shotgun that Harry had been carrying into the cloaked man's back, directly where his heart was beating.

"Don't cast any spells, or your friend dies," Harry shouted to the two wizards, who had ceased their slow, prowling advance upon seeing their partner taken hostage. However, as soon as Harry had raised the shotgun, the two began chuckling.

"You think you can beat us wizards with a Muggle weapon, do you?" The one on the left said in a high pitched, strangled voice.

Decided that actions would explain far better than words, Harry pointed the nuzzle of the shotgun at the captured Death Eater's right knee, and pulled the trigger. The man tried to hold back his scream, but his unearthly shout of pain ripped through the rather pleasant twilight sky. Shrapnel of metal pummelled its way through the mans cloth, skin, blood and eventually the knee cap, which upon impact, cracked and shattered into multiple fragments. In the Muggle world, the man would never be able to walk properly again. The man collapsed to his knees as the pain kicked in, and blood, bone fragments, and bloodied, glistening metal fragments tore through the other side of his leg.

Harry still had his right hand on the mans cloak, and he viciously tugged the man back up into a standing position before the two astonished wizards took advantage of the lack of cover between them and their threat. Harry let his right hand loose for a moment, to reach back and cock the worn, wooden shotgun, preparing it for the next shot, but before the familiar and comforting clunk of the new shell being loaded in had sounded, the injured man disappeared from Harry's sight with nothing more than a pop. No smoke, no explosions, no bang; just a faint pop and the man was gone.

It took Harry's mind moments to realize that he was no longer behind any cover, and unlike the wizards who could create magical barriers Harry had no way of protecting himself. Abandoning any negotiations he had been trying to reach half a minute earlier, Harry aimed the shotgun at the nearest wizard, the one with the high pitched voice, and pulled the trigger. He felt the familiar recoil against his shoulder, but did not expect the multitude of flurrying butterflies to funnel out of the nuzzle. Harry glanced at the wizard on the right, and noticed that his wand was glowing slightly, and he realized that the man must have previously transformed his ammo into harmless butterflies.

Unsure of what to do next, Harry allowed his instincts to take over, and he pumped the next round into the shotgun, but before the familiar clunk of the next shell loading could be heard, the weapon began twisting and shaking in his hands. He threw the weapon away in shock, and watched in intrigued horror as the weapon bent 180 degrees, so that the tip of the weapon would now be pointing at the wielder. The high pitched cackling convinced Harry that it had been the other Death Eater's charm that caused the destruction of his nostalgic weapon.

The two Death Eaters had their wands pointed at Harry's heart, and were slowly advancing. In the background, Harry could hear the chanting of the trio of wizards growing steadily louder, whilst the volumes of smoke trailing out of the magically enforced roof were drastically increasing. Harry realized he didn't have much time left, both for his life and the life of the children below him.

Resorting to his final option, Harry reached into the inside of his leather jacket, which was being buffeted by waves of wind as he stood upon the speeding train, and withdrew his recently acquired redwood wand. Harry was pleased to note that the wooden stick instantly began soaking itself in a thin layer of blistering flames that despite distorting the air around the wand, did nothing but warm Harry's chilled hand. The two Death Eaters once again paused in their advance at the arrival of a new weapon. They glanced nervously at each other, molten ruby red staring at boiling bloody red. They appeared reluctant to start a duel after witnessing the roiling flames upon Harry's wand, which greatly relieved Harry, as he had no idea how to cast a single spell, and would have to rely upon bluffing to keep himself alive.

The winds grew colder and more vicious as the three wizards stood their ground, eyes flickering between their targets. The sky, which had been painted in golden streaks moments earlier, was now an accumulation of gray, menacing clouds, sizzling with energy, electricity and lightning bolts. The darkened mood raised the awareness of the duellers, and when the chanters began suddenly screaming, the wizard on the right raised his wand as if to cast a spell, but Harry beat him to the punch.

"Fire!" Harry roared, as he brought his flaming redwood wand downwards in a vertical arc. The Death Eater paused in his incantation of his spell, instead preparing to cast a shielding charm if needed.

Except nothing happened.

The three wizards stared at the space between them for moments longer, but still no flames, fire, or even a spark appeared. A loud, clap of deafening thunder shook them all from their stupor, except once again, Harry's reflexes let him cast the first spell.

"Flamethrower!"

"Fire Blast!"

"Overheat!"

"Do something, damn it!"

But nothing happened. The thunder rumbled towards the train, and the flashes of light were appearing at closer and closer intervals, but no spell, charm, or burst of fire appeared from Harry's wand. The talkative Death Eater began cackling loudly, his high pitched voice cracking a multitude of times as he lost himself in his ecstasy of humour.

"At first I thought you were a Muggle, then I thought you were a Wizard, and now," the wizard mockingly said in between ragged breaths, "Now I don't know what you are, but frankly, you disgust me."

"Die, Muggle-Wizard," he said, his tone one of superiority and finality. Harry knew this was it. He couldn't jump off the train without killing himself, but there was no other way to avoid the deadly spells that were being cast at him by two different dark wizards. The roaring and encompassing thunder began to drown out all sound. Harry briefly wondered where this mysterious, powerful storm had come from suddenly, but his fear over losing his life overrode such thoughts. Harry stood tall and proud, his redwood wand pointed at his enemies as he watched two emerald bursts of light flicker towards him from two directions.

'This is it,' Harry thought to himself, 'Over before it even began.'

If he was going to die, Harry refused to be a coward and close his eyes at his incoming death. He stared defiantly towards the green lights that were sizzling and hissing towards him. It was because Harry's eyes were wide open that he glimpsed the silver coins flickering towards the death spells from behind him.

The killing curses directed at Harry collided with the spinning sickles, and would have burned right through the silver, and continued on their path towards Harry, if it were not for the twin bolts of lightning that struck the silver at the same instant that the curses did. The rippling, crackling, neon yellow and blinding white lightning bolt seared the silver, and absorbed the deadly emerald green curse within itself. The lightning bolt began to become consumed the green light, until the snaking, jagged tendril of energy was naught but vivid green. Finally, the sickles exploded with an almighty bang, and as shards of red hot silver screamed past Harry's face, barely avoiding him, the powerful, ominous green lighting ripped it's way towards the heavens, before piercing an overbearing, dark storm cloud, banishing the condensed liquid into wisps of vapour.

The two Death Eaters displayed reaction times that amazed Harry. He had originally thought that the dark wizards were pathetic and stupid, but he now realized that they were simply being over cautious of a new, unusual threat. Harry had to admit, he wasn't the most normal enemy to come across, even if he was pathetically weak. Another green light came sizzling towards Harry instantly, and Harry realized that he had no time to dodge this curse either. He was mentally damning his luck, when a heavy mass of weight collided with his back, sending him tumbling to the ground. The train suddenly took a sharp right turn, twisting itself around a steep mountain as it neared Hogwarts Castle, and Harry felt himself slipping off of the smooth crimson surface.

Powerful animal jaws gripped the collar of Harry's leather jacket, and yanked him back onto the centre of the train. Immediately after, the weight left his back, and Harry barely had time to push his head off the wooden roof, glance up, and see a three foot, shaggy black dog launching itself over the two Death Eater guards. The obviously magical dog continued to gallop along the roof of the train until it lunged at the throat of one of the chanting wizards. There was so much smoke spewing from the train around the chanters that Harry momentarily lost sight of his guardian angel, or well, guardian dog. However, moments after the shaggy animal disturbed the ritual, the smoke cleared in response, and Harry could see the dog proudly crushing a Death Eater's throat in between its powerful jaws. Rivulets of blood seeped through the wizard's dark cloth and onto the pearly white canine teeth, creating a rather gruesome and horrifying scene.

The other two chanters immediately abandoned their ritual, and turned their efforts into saving their partner from the bloodthirsty dog. One of them, after waving his wand above his head twice, gathered the droplets of rain that were beginning to form, and launched three liquid javelins with frozen, pointed tips at the dog while the other chanter transformed himself into a shade like creature, and ghosted towards the currently defenceless dog. A dark, hissing hand reached out from the shaded wizards robes, and Harry could see that it was covered in a layer of black, slithering flames that were animated into midnight black snakes with snapping jaws. The shaggy dog refused to remove its grip around its prey's neck however, and simply growled viciously at the incoming threats.

Harry felt sick as he watched the inevitable death of his saviour, but he shouldn't have bothered worrying. A great wall of scorching fire lit up the dank air between the liquid tridents and the dog, instantly evaporating the deadly weapons. The light from the fire revealed a short, spunky girl with long, straight hair that rippled in a multitude of reds, oranges and yellows, as if her mane of hair was on fire. As the girl turned her attention on the other threat, her hair visibly began shrinking, until it was short, spiked and metallic coloured. Her left hand, which wasn't wielding a wand, morphed until it was coated in what looked like reinforced steel. With her metallic hand she caught the shade wizard's deadly hand in an iron clad grip. She squeezed her hand tightly into a fist, crushing the wizards fingers, who would have screamed in pain, but his magical transformation into a shade prevented him from making any vocal noises.

As a shade, if anyone were to touch the flimsy, transparent body, they would experience immediate and severe burns, both internal and external, almost always resulting in instant death. However, the hand of the shade, which is the only physical part of the magical creature, conducts instant death if it comes into contact with the flesh of a living being. The witch's metallic coated hand prevented that from occurring, and also allowed her to physically grab hold of the shade. The witch then continued to morph her steel enforced arm so that it was ridiculously bulky and muscular, before tossing the shade back at his fellow wizard. The shade quickly cancelled his transformation, and tumbled into his ally, saving his partner from what would have been instantaneous death. The witch withdrew another wand from a wand holster at her waist, and with two wands, began sending a variety of colourful, yet dangerous curses at the two Death Eaters who struggled to keep up. It was incredibly amusing to watch the witch's hair change colour in correspondence to the colour of the spell that she cast.

Harry didn't have time to lie on the train floor and stare and gape however, as much as he would've liked to, because while the witch and the dog were fighting, the remaining two guards had decided that if they were to accomplish anything this night, it would be Harry's death. The duo launched another wave of deadly spells at Harry, fortunately not the green death spells, but before Harry could react and roll out of the way, a giant figure stepped over him, and with a swish of his wand, sent strikes of lightning from the rumbling thunderclouds to intercept the incoming curses. The flashing lights collided with each other and exploded in powerful bursts of light and energy. As more lightning flashed down upon Hogwarts Express, the flashes illuminated the man's face.

The six and a half foot dark skinned wizard stood proudly and powerfully as he faced his two opponents. Dark eyes that could have been dyed ink black held a terrifying calm in them that caused Harry to shiver. This man didn't panic in a fight. This man ruled the fight. He wore a one piece, long, noble purple, sleeveless robe. Upon the black man's bare arms Harry could see a multitude of tattoos wrapped around his massive biceps and triceps that were glistening with energy. As each judgement strike of lightning fell from the sky towards the earth, the tattoos lit up in a pure, bright white light, as painful to look at as the reckless lightning bolts.

The man held his wand loosely in his left hand and refused to use it throughout the duel. The man instead commanded his magic with his right hand, which was balled into a fist, outlining the powerful veins running up the man's arms. He would raise his fist to the sky, and calmly swing it downwards, sending spears of lightning crashing towards his enemies. Harry quickly realized that the storm was not a natural storm, as he had initially thought, but a storm created by this man.

Despite the black man's incredible display of raw power, the two Death Eaters he was fighting were holding their own against the terrible onslaught of lightning. Individually, the two were obviously far less talented than the storm wielder, but together they managed to keep together a solid defence. They would transform and summon the nearby leaves and branches into daggers and spears, and send them colliding with the lightning bolts. The metallic transformations would absorb the lightning strikes, but would always ultimately shatter under the sheer pressure of raw energy instilled within the lightning.

Harry noticed the shaggy black dog retreating stealthily back behind the black wizard, the Death Eater still clamped in its jaws, at the same time that he noticed that the magical train was slowing down. Harry's eyes scoured the distance, and discovered in shock that they had arrived at the entrance to the Hogwart's train station. There was still a lake that appeared to separate the children from the castle, but the train trip was over.

The black wizard appeared to realize this too, because for the first time since he arrived, he spoke.

"You have failed in you task," The wizard rumbled, his voice as threatening and dominating as the thunder he manipulated, "I demand you leave immediately."

As expected, it was the high pitched talkative Death Eater that responded. "We haven't failed yet. We can still butcher the mudbloods as they leave the train. Besides, Shacklebolt," the Death Eater spat the black wizard's name out in disgust, "Why would I want to leave now when I could kill you instead?"

"So be it," Shacklebolt replied, his voice calm and steady, which only made his response all the more terrifying. For the first time during the fight, Shacklebolt raised his wand to the sky, and incredibly slowly, as if there was incredible resistance pulling against his wand, dragged his wand down towards the ground.

"Tonks, to me!" Shacklebolt cried out in his deep voice, as he began struggling to control his shaking wand. The metamorphing witch touched the tip of her two wands together, creating a powerful shockwave that knocked her two opponents over, before bounding back towards Shacklebolt. She stretched her legs so that, for an instant, she was taller than Shacklebolt in order to leap over the two guard Death Eaters. While in midair she shrunk herself back to her normal, 5 and a half foot height, and when she hit the ground, she immediately threw herself into roll that placed her behind Shacklebolt.

The remaining four Death Eaters all lined up against Shacklebolt, and were simultaneously casting curses, but it was too late. Shacklebolt let the pressure in his wand take over, and his arm was yanked towards the sky, while searing balls of lightning smashed into the Hogwarts Express. The train's powerful magical wards prevented the wood from splintering, and the two balls of lightning sat upon the roof, seemingly awaiting orders. Shacklebolt waved his wand once more whilst whispering incantations that were lost over the noise of the storm, and the balls of lightning morphed, stretched and crackled into eight foot warhorses.

The energy throttled warhorses galloped along the roof of the train, tearing the very air around themselves as they struggled to maintain their crazed power. The Death Eater's eyes all widened in horror as they watched death ride towards them. The horses continued to stamped towards the dark wizards, until the blinding war creatures completely enveloped the much smaller humans.

The lightning warhorses disappeared as quickly as they had arrived, and the only evidence they had ever existed was the faint crackling that now surrounded the Hogwart's Express. Where the four Death Eaters once stood there was now absolutely nothing. Harry gasped in shock. Had the lightning monsters completely evaporated the wizards?

"Damn it. Kingsley, portkeys, they all got away," the witch, Harry remembered her name was Tonks, said.

"Why do you sound so surprised Tonks? This isn't the first time this has happened to us," Kingsley replied. There was no more lightning crackling around his body, and the storm he had produced was already fading, but his voice remained just as deep and powerful as it had been during the duel.

"I know it's not. It's just sometimes I wish they were a little easier to…" Tonks trailed off.

"To kill?" Kingsley replied, a small smirk playing on his chocolate lips.

"Or capture," Tonks amended, "But yeah, also to kill." A loud, impatient barking distracted the two from their conversation, and they glanced towards the source of the noise. The grin on Kinsley's face grew as he observed the ferocious black dog release the dead Death Eater from its jaws.

"It appears that not all of them got away," Kingsley said as he looked fondly at the dog, which was shaking its tail uncontrollably, pleased by the praise.

"Good work Padfoot," Tonks said affectionately as she proceed to rub the dogs belly, taking care not to rub her hands in any Death Eater blood. The dog barked happily; it was proud that its accomplishment had been noted.

"Now," said Kingsley gravely, as he turned to face Harry, who was still embarrassingly lying on the roof. "What are we going to do with you?"

Harry began picking himself up off the roof. He noted that his shotgun was unfortunately long gone, but he was relived to note that his wand was still in his hand. He slid the slither of redwood into his makeshift leather holster, and turned to face the party.

"Wait, Kingsley," Tonks said urgently, "That's Ryan, Ryan Potter." Kingsley's constant impassive face broke slightly as his eyes widened slightly in surprise.

"Are you sure?" Kingsley asked, but before Tonks could reply Harry burst in.

"Is she sure? Of course she's not bloody sure. She's wrong. I'm not bloody Ryan Potter," Harry stared defiantly at Kingsley before continuing, "I'm Harry Potter."

Both witch and wizard stared at Harry disbelieving. Harry groaned internally. He was going to get himself killed for being unable to sell his real identity. Tonks raised her wand, and was about to stun Harry, when a new voice from behind Harry, where the dog had once been, caused her to pause.

"Harry? Is it really you?" The voice was hoarse, as if the man had suffered for a great many years and had yet to fully recover from the incident. More so, the disbelief and shock in his voice was so prominent that it caused the grizzled voice to crack as he spoke. Harry turned around to face a man with a gaunt, rough face. He had long, wavy black hair that fell down to his shoulders and rough stubble covering his cheeks and chin. His eyes were his most mesmerizing feature though. As Harry stared into the man's gray eyes, he could feel the agony, pain, and inner chaos leaking through them, as if he were struggling with inner demons from his past. However, behind that layer of suffering was a kindling of hope in his gray eyes. As the man's tortured eyes stared into Harry's own emerald eyes, he realized that this was the first wizard he had ever met that recognized him as being Harry without Harry having to first correct them. Somehow, sometime, someway, this man truly cared for Harry.

"Y-yes. I'm Harry," Harry managed to stutter, overcome with strange and new emotions. Before he could compose himself however, the gaunt man had launched himself over to Harry and wrapped his arms around him in an iron tight bear hug. The man began to sob uncontrollably, and it was all Harry could do not to cry himself. He didn't know why he was suddenly so emotional. He didn't even know who this dog man was, but he felt a primal need to console the obviously traumatized man.

"You're alive!" the man cried, "He's alive! Harry Potter is alive!" The man pulled himself out of the bear hug, tears still streaming down his face, and clasped his hands upon Harry's shoulders.

"Look at this Nymph, he's taller than me already. Last time I saw him he was in nappies, and now this," the man said proudly.

"Sirius, now is not the time, nor the place," Kingsley rumbled, not necessarily pleased with how events were turning out.

"What are you talking about? Harry's alive! Anywhere is the place, and anytime is perfect!"

"Sirius!" Kingsley said again, and although he barely raised his voice, the authority in his tone caused Sirius to sober. "There will be children leaving the Hogwarts Express in moments. You cannot be seen. I am doing this for your sake more than mine, transform immediately."

Harry did not understand what was happening in the slightest, but was carefully memorizing the conversation, so that he could analyse it later and figure out just what the hell was going on.

"Fine," Sirius agreed, "but I'm not leaving his side," he added, his voice determined, and Harry was able to watch in fascination as the man began to collapse forwards, and quickly transform into the shaggy dog that went by the name of Padfoot.

"Have it your way, Padfoot," Kingsley murmured before turning to Tonks. "Report to Dumbledore, Tonks. I need to return to the Ministry before my absence is discovered."

"Sure thing Kingsley," The witch, who currently sported spiky, bright purple hair said, before grabbing a sock from her pocket, whispering a word, and disappearing with a pop. As soon as she disappeared, the formidable black man turned to Harry.

"I don't know who you are, therefore I don't trust you, but for what you did today, you have my thanks," and with those parting words, Kingsley withdrew a marble from his robe, whispered something that was lost in the wind, and disappeared just like his partner had.

Harry glanced around at the now deserted train, which miraculously, showed absolutely no signs of the incredible battle that had been fought upon it moments earlier. Those magical wards must be insanely powerful, Harry thought to himself.

He glanced below at the side of the train, at which students were beginning to disembark.

"So, how do we get down from here?" Harry asked no one in particular. The shaggy dog by his side barked happily in response.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I was thinking too," Harry muttered before beginning his slow, painful climb down the side of the Hogwarts Express.

* * *

**Before you post something about Kingsley and co. being overpowered, just remember, that in my story, EVERYONE will be op. It makes writing far more interesting.**

**Cheers**

**-Council**


	7. When Cracks Emerge

"Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here!"

Harry smiled to himself as the familiar, rough voice of his favourite half-giant rose above the sound of the chattering students. Harry pushed his way through the robed crowd and earned himself some reproving glares.

"Who does he think he is?"

"Look at him, dressed up like a Muggle!"

Harry brushed the comments aside, honestly not caring what the gossiping magical children thought about him. He gave one final solid push, and burst out of the tumultuous crowd and found himself standing beside Hagrid.

"How you doing Hagrid?" Harry asked, craning his neck skywards to better see Hagrid's face. Beady black eyes shot down, and a crinkled, worn smile appeared on the big friendly giant's hairy face.

"Harry! It's good to see ya here," Hagrid said while clapping Harry on the back, Harry wincing with every strike. "These are the firs'-years this year," Hagrid explained as he waved his giant hand around. Harry was forced to tilt his neck all the way to the ground to observe the small, shivering nervous first year students.

"Do the first-years not go to the castle with the rest of the students?" Harry asked, indicating with one hand the gradually fading rabble of teenage witches and wizards leaving on carriages drawn by mysterious looking black horses.

""O' course not Harry, where y'a been all these years," Hagrid said admonishingly, before remembering who he was talking to. "Ah blimey Harry, I forgo' this was yer first time at Hogwarts," the giant said as he palmed his face with one of his expansive hands.

"It's alright Hagrid, I'm not offended. So tell me, how do the first-years get to the castle?" Harry asked, honestly curious. Perhaps they all flew broomsticks over the mountains to the top of the castle? Hagrid opened his mouth to respond, but managed to catch himself before he started speaking. His mouth twisted into a shrewd smile, and he began scratching his wild, hairy beard.

"Tell me Harry, yer kinda like a firs'-year student at Hogwarts, righ'?" Hagrid questioned, his voice unusually sly.

"Technically, yes," Harry replied cautiously.

"So, technically, ye'd be allowed to ride to the castle with the other firs-years, righ'?

"Right," Harry replied, beginning to realize where the conversation was heading.

"Grea'!" exclaimed Hagrid, and without a moments warning, the half-giant lifted Harry off the ground as if he weighed nothing more than a sack of potatoes, and dumped him mercilessly on a rickety old rowboat alongside two astonished, scrawny kids.

"Umm Hagrid, are you sure this boat can support me?" Harry asked, but his question went unanswered, as Hagrid was too busy settling himself in his own rowboat. Despite occupying all four possible seats, the boat remained perfectly upright and floating for the half a ton man.

"Well if it supports him, it'll support me," Harry muttered to himself, causing the two children in front of him to giggle slightly at Harry's childish antics.

"What are you looking at, kid?" Harry asked the one boy who had turned around to ogle at the older boy sharing the boat with them. The kid's face flushed in embarrassment, and he quickly turned away for the rest of the trip, occasionally throwing admiring glances at Harry when he thought Harry wasn't looking. Harry just sighed and squirmed around on the hard wooden seat until he was comfortable and stared longingly at the star sprawled sky. Surrounded by all these first year students, Harry couldn't help but feel like he was forgetting something.

What exactly he had forgotten however was abruptly forced out of his mind when the rowboats rounded the corner and the children began gasping, and cooing in appreciation. Wondering what was going on, Harry tore his gaze off of the heavens and stared directly ahead.

If someone were to have taken a photograph of Harry at that moment, they would have noticed that the slack jawed, wide eyed expressions on the children's faces were identical to the expression currently on the seventeen year old's face. Although the castle had been a magnificent sight at twilight, it was a completely different experience at night. The piercing bright pinpricks of light from the heavens were sprawled around the ancient castle. The jutting towers and spires rose up into the sky as if they were yearning to break free, while every glass window was alight with cheery, flickering flames and torches. The quiet, rippling waves upon the lake made by the rowboats caused the whole scene to appear like something out of a fairytale when Harry stared at the wondrous reflection.

'Oh right,' Harry thought to himself, 'this is practically a fairytale.'

All too soon the rowboats had neared the rocky outcrop, and the castle was far too steep to admire without receiving a crooked neck. Hagrid was the first out of the rowboats, and proceeded to heave the children off of the boat and dump them ashore. One brave child tried to climb onto the wooden dock himself, but slipped, and would have fallen into the cold, merciless water if it hadn't been for Hagrid's quick reflexes. Harry quickly decided that he'd rather face embarrassment then a wet outfit, and let Hagrid toss him out of his rowboat along with the other children.

"Thanks," Harry muttered to Hagrid, who chuckled in good humour.

"Anytime Harry," he responded before rounding up the first-years again and leading them to a wide, wooden double door with a large, brass knocker on each side. Three powerful smashes later the door was still surprisingly upright, and Hagrid left the children for the company of a new witch, Professor McGonagall.

"First years, this way please," the aged witch said in a crisp, brisk, no nonsense tone. However formidable she sounded however, was not reflected in her posture. The woman was obviously exhausted, whether that be mentally, physically, magically, a mixture of two, or just all three. Harry briefly toyed with the thought that perhaps Dumbledore had his Hogwart's teaching staff helping him fight in the war against Voldemort, but quickly threw away the idea. Dumbledore may have been a bit fanatic, but surely he was not so crazed that he had war veterans acting as professors at a school for young children.

McGonagall led the students in a brisk pace towards the giant doors that led to the great hall. She had them wait outside while she informed the Headmaster of their arrival. Harry was lounging against the wall when the silvery, transparent bodies began floating through the stone cobble. One such animated body passed right through Harry, sending chills running through his body. The bodies began to gather in the center of the room and were chuckling and gossiping as they eyed and observed the young children, who were in turn staring at the floating participants in a mix of awe and fear.

"Ghosts. Bloody ghosts. Did you people build this school on an Indian burial ground or something?" Harry said out loud in disbelief. A couple of the first-years chuckled at Harry's outburst, and Harry realized that those students must have been the Muggle born witches and wizards. How else would they have caught the reference?

"No, Mr. Potter," McGonagall reprimanded in her crisp, clear voice. Harry turned around to the entrance of the great hall and was embarrassed to find the old witch staring disapprovingly at him. "Hogwarts was not built upon any graveyard that I am aware of, and I would appreciate it if you refrained from making such ominous comments."

"Sorry professor," Harry said, ducking his head in embarrassment at being scolded like a child. McGonagall certainly knew how to put someone in their place.

"That's alright Mr. Potter. Just try not to make this a habit," McGonagall said, and Harry could have sworn he could see the traces of a smile upon her stern face. Before he could confirm however she began ushering the nervous first-year students through the door. Harry was the last to walk through, and when he attempted to do so, McGonagall stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Mr. Potter, I do hope that young Ms. Grande is currently residing in your backpack," the witch said, her stern voice of authority removing any sense of humour from the statement.

"Umm, what?" Harry said, confused.

"Where is Willow Grande, Mr. Potter. I did not see her with the other first-year students."

Harry's face paled considerably as he suddenly remembered what was so important but that he had forgotten.

"Oh bloody hell, I forgot to teach her how to land," Harry shouted at McGonagall before sprinting into the Great Hall.

"Didn't teach her how to land what, Mr. Potter," McGonagall cried out, but she received no response from the panicking boy.

As Ron Weasley sat, hungry and tired at the Gryffindor table, eagerly waiting for the food to arrive, he began contemplating his journey to Hogwarts. It had been, for a lack of a better word to describe, absolute shit. It had all began with Ryan, and now that Ron thought about it, it also ended with Ryan. Ron wasn't as stupid and oblivious as people seemed to believe, and he had easily noticed Ryan's change in attitude towards a certain member of his family. A certain female member, and it was, thank Merlin, not his mother either.

No, Ron hadn't been oblivious at all when Ryan had began slipping what he had obviously thought had been rather well disguised questions about one Ginny Weasley. It had been rather innocent at first. Ryan had asked about all the members of the Weasley family, and how they were doing, and then when he landed on Ginny, he suddenly became far more interested in the answers he was receiving.

So, Ron had fed Ryan a cock and bull story about Ginny being in a relationship with Dean Thomas, something that wasn't entirely inconceivable, because that filthy git had made his opinion about Ginny Weasley far too often in the boys sleeping chambers. Ron had not expected Ryan to learn the truth, as the amount of normal conversations that Ryan and Ginny had constructed in their lifetime was less than the amount of fingers on one of Ron's hand. That was five fingers, so less than five conversations. Ron gave a small harrumph of triumph at his internal accomplishment.

What Ron had not taken into account was for Ginny to come bursting out of the closet, and not the sexual closet either, but the shy closet. No one knew how or why it happened, but one day, Ginny Weasley had woken up, and was more confident than she had ever been in her life. After all those long years, Ginny had maintained her flimsy crush on the Boy-who-lived, and so needless to say, the two in question had inevitably begun talking. It had not taken long for Ron's lie to become unveiled.

Therefore, when Ron met his good friend Ryan on the Hogwart's Express he had anticipated the cold attitude that Ryan gave Ron. Ron hadn't minded, he knew Ryan pretty well, better than most people at least, and he knew that his friend would blow the whole incident off in a couple of weeks, and Ron was content to wait.

What Ron had not expected was that once he, Ryan and Hermione had isolated a train cabin to themselves was for Ryan to burst into a tirade about how annoyed he was with Ron's 'idiotic twin morons'. Ron could stand Ryan insulting him, especially when he may have deserved it, but this array of insults against his family was uncalled for. Ron had tried to defend his brothers, but the moment he entered the conversation Ryan had turned on Ron and began shouting at him.

Ron had spent the rest of the train trip fuming in the corner of the cabin while Hermione carefully consoled Ryan, as if he were some sort of rabid cat.

'Damn them both,' Ron had thought to himself as he stared out the frosted train window. He was aware that anything involving his secret crush, Hermione, caused his emotions to rage out of control, but as long as Ron controlled his actions, he felt that he was allowed to feel the rush of anger and jealousy at Ryan that flooded his body.

Things had then progressed to become worse, believe it or bloody not, when the arrival of his sister in the cabin caused the two girls to begin fighting for Ryan's attention as if he were some sort of prize. Unable to stand the theatrics going on in the cabin Ron had stormed out into the train corridors and loudly, rather rudely but personally justified, slamming the cabin door shut behind him. He had proceeded to storm up and down the cabin, venting his anger on some first-years by shouting at them, causing them to flee. Ron was relieved that the Hogwart's Express was almost at it's destination, as could be determined by the fading, golden twilight.

Ron was too busy staring out the windows at the twilight that he angrily stalked right into a Ravenclaw prefect. The two collapsed into a twisted heap, with Ron swearing loudly and crudely, while the Ravenclaw simply pushed herself away from Ron as if he were some kind of foul insect. Ron finally stood up, brushed off his robes, and looked at the girl he had run into.

"Sorry about that… Padma," Ron said, internally groaning as he recognized his old Yule Ball date. Horrible, embarrassing memories flooded Ron's mind, causing him to duck his head as his face began to grow red.

"Please pay more attention to where you're running, Ron," Padma hissed through gritted teeth. It was obvious that she too had not forgotten the Yule Ball and still remembered how pathetic of a date Ron had been.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize some people take up the whole corridor," Ron snapped back, instantly regretting the insult the moment it left his mouth. Padma's pleasant face screwed up into one of fury as comprehension dawned over her.

"Was that a fat joke?" Padma said, her voice soft, steady but deadly. Ron gulped audibly. Padma was so furious he wouldn't have been surprised if she accidently set Ron on fire. In fact, Ron was almost positive he could already smell the smoke. The smell was so strong that it caused Ron's eyes to water, and he began rubbing his stinging eyes against his robes.

"Bloody hell, that smoke's not my imagination, is it?" Ron asked Padma, who was also beginning to tear up. Padma shook her head, but pointed upwards with her thumb, and as Ron's eyes traced their way to the ceiling, he discovered the source of the smoke.

"What's going on?" Padma asked, obviously not expecting a response from Ron, but still voicing her concerns verbally.

"I'm not positive, but I think-" began Ron, but a sharp, cracking noise interrupted him. Ron stared up at the ceiling, and winced when he saw the damaging split within the wooden ceiling.

"No, now I'm positive, someone's trying to break the wards on the train," Ron finished, horror creeping into his voice. Padma began to panic as well. Just like Ron, she had been just as aware of the recent Death Eater attacks that had been appearing during the summer holiday. Even if the Ministry refused to admit that they were Death Eater attacks, her family knew the truth. The only people who would be trying to break into the Hogwart's Express would be You-know-who's followers.

"Are you sure? How do you know?" Padma asked, trying to calm herself down by talking.

"First, the ceilings cracking, that's an obvious sign," Ron said plainly, making Padma, a stereotyped intelligent Ravenclaw feel incredibly dim witted. "And second, my brother Bill is a curse breaker. He taught me a bit about wards, and I know enough to know that this ward is being torn apart, rapidly." Padma eyed Ron curiously. He was no longer the anti-feminist, nervous boy that had asked her out for the Yule Boy. The red head in question currently had his wand out and was casting several diagnostic spells at the ceiling and all the while his other hand was tracing strange patterns in the air. Unlike Padma, whose body had frozen up from the suddenness of the situation, Ron was attempting to determine the problem. Padma jokingly thought that next he'd be fixing the problem too.

"Alright, stand back Padma, I'm going to repair the wards."

It took Padma's mind several seconds to catch up. By that time Ron was sitting cross-legged on the floor, his wand held between both hands, which were clasped together and resting softly on his legs.

"You can do that?" Padma blurted out.

"Well, not quite. It's impossible to repair a ward while it's under attack. Besides, I'm not even talented enough of a ward master to repair any kind of ward, especially not one as powerful as the on this train. No, I'm just going to support the ward instead, let it use my magical energy to fight off the attacker."

"But if the ward is so powerful, surely your magical input will be nearly useless," Padma explained, seeing the obvious hole in Ron's plan.

"Not if I concentrate all my magic on a single crack in the surface," Ron replied with a confident grin on his face. Little did Padma know that few had ever seen that particular grin on Ron's face. Ryan had been one of the few, and he had only seen it a few times when he played Ron in chess, and Ron had finally enacted his winning plans. When Ron smiled like that, well, he made it seem like anything was possible.

Another loud crack above her head caused Padma to jump, and she noticed that the crack in the ceiling had grown. Ron swore crudely, something Padma was quickly becoming used to, before he began issuing his commands.

"There's no time left, I have to start now. Padma, don't let anything interfere with me. That includes people, smoke, debris, anything. I don't care how you do it, just do it." Ron didn't merely say this, but he spoke it in such a way that it was most definitely an order. Before Padma could retaliate at being spoken to in such a derogatory way, Ron had closed his eyes and begun muttering an incantation.

"_Wier ich loc dass terra yeven soursa veda tara. Wier ich loc dass terra yeven soursa veda tara. Wier ich loc dass terra yeven soursa veda tara."_

The incantation wasn't merely spoken, but chanted, almost like one would sing a toneless song. The melody was not beautiful, and Ron's voice was anything but angelic, but Padma quickly found herself mesmerized in the incantation. It wasn't until Ron coughed from breathing in smoke, interrupting the ritual, which resulted in another crack in the ceiling appeared, that Padma realized she wasn't doing her job.

The Ravenclaw prefect whipped out her wand and cast an enlarged bubble head charm so that it covered not just Ron's face, but his whole body. She continued to place a deafening charm around the bubble so that loud noises would be unable to interrupt the red headed wizard. Unsatisfied with just the simple charm, Padma cast a dome shield around Ron, and, deciding to go for all or nothing, transfigured the nearby metal railings into metal, mesh blankets, which then hardened into a metallic igloo. Comfortable that Ron was safely protected, Padma cast a much needed bubble head charm on herself, and then felt the need to sit down, as the consecutive casting and maintaining of spells was beginning to drain her magical reserves.

"_Wier ich loc dass terra yeven soursa veda tara. Wier ich loc dass terra yeven soursa veda tara. Wier ich loc dass terra yeven soursa veda tara."_

Seconds passed by so slowly that it felt like hours were being ripped apart minute by minute in her mind. Padma wondered how much longer she would be able to hold the charms for, but when she felt her determination waver, she reminded herself that Ron was inside that metallic dome, providing his raw magical energy to the trains wards to keep them alive. If an idiot like Ron could do something that amazing, then Padma could most definitely hold these charms in place.

The only notification that time had indeed passed at all was when the windows of the train lit up in a fantastical display of white light, quickly followed by the crashing, roaring sound of thunder. The smoke began billowing out of the train roof even faster, and the cracks in the ceiling began to spider out. Ron was losing the battle, and if he lost this battle, it would mean his life.

"Ron!" Padma cried out, releasing all of her spells as she bounded towards the wizard. The metallic igloo slowly oozed towards the ground, before slithering across the velvet carpet back to its original occupation as railing. Smoke billowed out of the roof covering the wizard from view, and Padma was about to scream again, but another bolt of lightning and thunder struck the train, and the next moment the smoke was gone. Padma was unsure as to what had just happened, whether the wards had either completely died, or if Ron had held off the attack, but she found that she didn't really care. Instead, the pale, collapsed wizard who was sprawled along the ground, his red freckles standing out far too much on his paper white face as he struggled to breathe had entrapped her attention.

Padma knelt beside the fallen wizard, and unsure what she was meant to be doing, decided to raise Ron's head onto her lap. Ron opened one of his bleary eyes, and a bright blue pupil stared up at Padma, causing her to hold her breath in shock. She had never known that Ron had such bright blue eyes. They were mesmerizing, and Padma wished they were looking at her, but they weren't, for at this moment they were staring at the ceiling.

"Look Padma," Ron said weakly, as he nodded towards the ceiling, "We won. We held them off." And as Padma looked at the ceiling she saw that Ron was right, and that the cracks that had been recently formed under the magical pressure were slowly resealing themselves.

"Don't tell me you're doing that," Padma said, looking at the shaken wizard in shock. Ron chuckled weakly.

"It's not me, it's the wards on the train. I told you they were powerful." Ron closed his eyes in exhaustion. "We held them off. I knew we'd hold them off," he murmured.

"Why do you keep saying 'we', Ron, you did all the work," Padma said, and she waited for a response, but never received one, as Ron had passed out. "You idiot," Padma whispered softly, her voice straining with emotion.

Needless to say, Ron remembered none of those spoken words, and when he awoke, it was to a bloody miserable and annoying scene, further reinforcing how much of a shit journey it had been. Perhaps if he had been conscious to see Padma tearing up over his body, or to see Padma viciously, but unsuccessfully defend Ron's efforts from Ryan, who had burst into the cabin moments after Ron had passed out, and had claimed that as the leader of the DA, the students should listen to him if they wanted to survive. Padma knew that Ryan was doing the right thing as he was the most experienced student at fighting dark wizards, but she was infuriated that Ryan appeared to ignore Ron's valiant efforts that had truly saved everyone from even having to fight a battle in the first place.

No, when Ron awoke he was in a threstral led carriage with three other occupants. Ginny Weasley was sitting far too close to Ryan Potter for Ron's liking, and Hermione was berating Ron for not being awake for the potential battle that had been about to take place. Ron had no energy in him to explain that he had been awake for the actual battle that had taken place between him and the three Death Eater chanters, so he simply closed his eyes and let the peaceful blackness reside over his mind. He was jolted awake when the carriage reached Hogwarts by a sharp kick from Hermione in the shins.

"What the bloody hell was that for?" Ron asked indignantly.

"Because you deserve it!" was Hermione's unhelpful response. As she stalked away in a huff towards Ryan, Ron had to carefully remind himself just why he had a crush on that girl. He found it was strangely hard to convince himself that he still fancied her. He pushed those foreign thoughts out of his mind however, and rushed towards the castle, which was now the closest source of food.

And so it was in that foul mood that Ron found himself at the Gryffindor table, ignored by his supposedly two best friends, and even his little sister. He didn't have any other family or close friends at Hogwarts, Ron realized despondently, and began stabbing at the wooden table with his fingernails. He was so busy moping that he didn't notice the constant glances that Padma Patil was shooting him from the Ravenclaw table. What did grab Ron's attention however was the sound of someone shouting and sprinting in a panic.

"Oh bloody hell, I forgot to teach her how to land," the man shouted as he sprinted through the giant entrance doors. The man was just over six feet tall, and was dressed in Muggle clothing, which confused Ron. Everyone was required to wear robes by this point weren't they?

The man had rimmed glasses on his face and black, messy hair that fell down to his collar, and as he ran, Ron could see the wide shoulders and strong arms pumping powerfully. Ron was trying to figure out who the stranger reminded him of, when the loud, unmistakable sound of shattering glass drew everyone's attention to the large, stain glassed windows behind the teacher's eating podium.

Ron's mouth fell open when he saw a giant, black motorcycle with stripes of emerald green upon its body smash through the colourful glass window and rocket towards the stonewall on the other side of the room. What was even more amazing was that the rider of the bike was a little girl. Ron gasped, along with most of the occupants of the room, as the little girl jumped off the flying motorcycle, seemingly having accepted her fate.

"Harry!" the girl screamed as her body flew through the air towards the ground.

"Willow!" the black haired man screamed simultaneously as his legs pounded down the stone walkway. It appeared that the man was not going to be able to make it to the child in time, until he threw himself into diving jump at the falling child. He caught the child in a maneuver reminiscent to that of a spear tackle, and with the girl tightly wrapped in his arms, he crashed into the ground, back first, the child landing safely on his chest. Despite the amazing display of action that had just occurred, all eyes were torn off the man and child as they watched the beautiful, flying bike crash into the solid stonewall of Hogwarts. Hogwarts was hundreds of years old, and the building was covered with a multitude of wards and protective charms, and therefore the bike didn't stand a chance.

Fortunately for the mysterious bike-flying girl, the bike had only been torn into three separate pieces.

"You broke my bike," the messy haired man said in horror, staring at the wall in shock.

"It's not my fault, you didn't teach me how to land," the girl replied haughtily, but she too appeared equally horrified by the destruction of the bike.

The great hall was deathly silent as everyone tried to comprehend what had just happened. The first person to react was Professor McGonagall, and she was furious. Ron had rarely ever seen her that furious at a student before.

"Are you trying to tell me Mr. Potter, that you taught that girl how to fly a motorcycle?" Ron winced; it was never a pleasant thing to hear Professor McGonagall shout.

Everyone in the room turned to face Ryan, who just stared at McGonagall in confusion. Ryan was about to respond, when the stranger replied first.

"Ah, maybe?" the black haired youth said nervously. He stood up as he gave a worried chuckle. He ran a hand through his messy, grease lined hair, and instead of smoothing down the tangled mess, he proceeded to muff it up further. The action was so familiar, so reminiscent of someone Ron knew so very well, that he instantly realized why the man looked so familiar.

"Bloody hell Ryan, you never told me you had a twin," Ron said to Ryan, who simply stared at Ron like he had grown a third arm.

"What? If that guy's not your twin, then I don't know what he is," Ron said, trying to defend himself as Hermione began glaring at him. Ron looked around for support, but found that everyone was looking at him like he was crazy, except for one other individual.

"Ah, Ginny, I knew it. It's the Weasley gene obviously. It let's us spot twins immediately, doesn't it?" Ron said in good humour to his little sister, who was staring at the newly arrived Potter with an open mouth.

'Oh Merlin,' Ron jokingly thought to himself, 'Please don't tell me she hasn't already fallen for the second Potter.' But as Ron stared at his sister more and more, he realized that that was a very real possibility.

A loud howl of mourning dragged everyone's attention, once again, to the bike wreckage. Amongst the metal bike fragments was a large black shaggy dog that was pawing at the pieces slowly while he howled painfully. It was as if the dog had lost a close friend, except that that was ridiculous. Dogs don't become friends with motorcycles, not even in the wizarding world.

Professor McGonagall had taken advantage of the lull in conversations to lecture the mysterious Potter on his foolishness and recklessness of his actions, and the whole of the great hall was listening in eagerly.

"That was some entrance huh Ryan? I think it actually tops our second year arrival don't you think?" Ron said to Ryan.

"What do you mean, our entrance was far cooler," Ryan replied, and Ron was intrigued to note that there was a hint of jealousy in Ryan's voice.

Well, Ron thought to himself, if the new Potter could put Ryan in his place for a while through a stunt like this, then Ron thought he was going to get along marvelously with the newest addition to the school.


	8. How To Sort A Memory

"The sorting ceremony shall now commence. May the student please step forwards when his or her name is called," Professor McGonagall announced, not only to the first-year students, but to the culminated great hall.

"Excuse me Professor, but do I really have to stand with the first-"

"Quiet, Potter," The stern witch snapped at Harry, who meekly shut his mouth.

"I hate being treated like a child," Harry muttered to himself, causing a few of the first-year students to stare back at him.

"What are you looking at, kid?" Harry demanded of one of the scrawny children as he glared at his observers.

"Nothing," the child squeaked, before whipping his head back to face the just as formidable glare of Professor McGonagall.

"Bailey, Georgia," McGonagall called in her shrill yet powerful voice, and a small, shaking girl stepped forwards, stumbling up the stairs to a small, rickety wooden chair. The girl sat down and turned to face the great hall. Harry could see fear flashing in the girls pale blue eyes before the worn and patched sorting hat was deposited upon her head. The too large hat slid down the girls face until it got caught on the hook of her nose.

Harry was waiting for something magical to occur, like a herd of rabbits to burst out of the hat's opening, quickly followed by a mountain of carrots. What he did not expect was for the hat to tear one of its seams open, take a deep breath and bellow at the top of its voice.

"Hufflepuff!" the hat shouted, and uproarious cheering quickly followed, courtesy of the table that displayed yellow as their house colour. One of the older witches at the table pointed her wand towards the ceiling, and with an almighty bang, twin badgers burst into existence that began cawing and cheering in their own language as they slowly circled the relieved first-year.

As the cheering continued, a loud, metallic screeching sound rippled throughout the great hall. All eyes turned to the back of the room, where Padfoot was meekly dragging one of the motorcycle pieces to the exit. As soon as the cheering died down, the dog halted its activities, and sat patiently and innocently, simultaneously looking at the motorcycle mournfully.

"Charlton, Johnny," McGonagall called, reclaiming the students' attention, but frowning at the black, shaggy, sinisterly innocent looking dog.

"Slytherin!" the hat bellowed in response. Once again, Padfoot slowly dragged the piece of bike towards the exit, painfully getting closer to his goal inch by inch.

"Dameon Matthew." More cheering was quickly followed by more screeching as the black dog finally dragged the piece around the exit and out of sight.

"Era, Gabriella." There were thankfully no other noises than cheering this time around, and Harry prayed that Padfoot would not make another entrance.

The praying was for naught however, as Padfoot quickly made another entrance. He moved onto the second piece of metallic scrap and began to once again drag it obnosxiously to the exit.

"Grande, Willow."

At this, Harry began shouting and cheering loudly, causing him to momentarily become the center of attention of the whole great hall. When he realized everyone was looking at him, a hyperactive seventeen year old surrounded by eleven year olds, he quieted down, and sat down on the ground cross-legged, so that the short first-years were now covering him from view. Therefore Harry never saw the hat fall upon Willow's temple, but he heard the hat bellowing 'Ravenclaw' just as clearly as anyone else in the room.

When the Ravenclaw table began cheering for their newest addition, Harry stood back up and once again began shouting and cheering, this time fortunately attracting far less attention. As Harry made eye contact with Willow, she stopped walking towards the Ravenclaw table, and instead appeared to want to run over to Harry. As much as the action warmed Harry's heart, he knew that she needed to join her house, and make some new friends. So Harry reluctantly pointed with his thumb to the Ravenclaw table, and mouthed 'I'll see you later' to the blonde girl. Willow got the message, and continued her way over to her house table, where she was enveloped in a warm welcome consisting of hugs and handshakes.

"Lake, Greg."

"Nova, Madeline."

"Potter, Harry."

Murmurs spread throughout the great hall as Harry's existence was authenticated. Harry felt a rush of sorrow and loneliness rush through his body. Did no one in the wizarding world know that he existed? Was it possible that not a single student had ever known that Ryan Potter had a twin?

It was with this miserable attitude that Harry pulled the hat over his head. Unlike the smaller first-years, the hat fit Harry's temple perfectly, and it settled comfortably on the nooks of his ears. The unfortunate side effect of this was that, unlike the first-years who were blinded by the hat, Harry was forced to stare into the eyes of every single Hogwarts student as he was sorted.

"Cheer up a little won't you. It's not as if looks can kill. Well, actually, there was that incident five years ago with the basilisk and your brother. Oh great, now I've gone and made you even more moody."

The intruding, annoying voice within Harry's head continued to ramble, but Harry had zoned out after hearing his brother being talked about by a damn hat. It wasn't good enough for his brother that the whole wizarding world talked about him, but he also had inanimate objects praising him. Bloody brilliant.

"If you don't mind I'm just going to poke around a bit. It's been years since a grown wizard has worn me, there's so much information buried in here, so many memories…" the sorting hat trailed off as it began rummaging through Harry's mind.

'Get out of my mind,' Harry mentally hissed at the intruder, 'get out!'

"Just ignore me, I'll be done in a moment. This is necessary for me to put you in the right house," the hat said as it began unraveling memories Harry had hidden away beneath locked doors. Harry began to protest, but images started to flash across his mind. Harry could see scorched wood crackling as flames licked at supporting pillars.

The sound of a child screaming tore through Harry's ears, and as he felt the fire crackling around his ankles. The short, pudgy boy tried to flee the room, but a tornado of flames tore through the wooden ground and swallowed up the child. The smell of burning flesh scorched Harry's nose, and his throat was dry and hoarse from the billowing smoke flooding out of the ground. From within the tornado of fire a sharp cracking could be heard. It was the sound of the boy's skull concaving as the flames ravaged the small body.

"Harry, we have to go, the building's collapsing. We have to go now!" The man speaking to Harry was in his late forties, with black hair just beginning to go gray. The tips of his precious hair were crisping and burning in the viciousness of the fire.

"Just leave me alone," Harry shouted at the man, "leave me alone!"

"Get out of my head!" Harry roared, and realizing that his eyes were clenched shut, ripped them open, and discovered that 400 students were staring at him. The room was deadly silent except for the sizzling, crackling beside Harry. Realizing that he was sprawled on the stone, granite stairs, Harry pulled himself up and turned around to face the rickety wooden stool and the sorting hat.

Harry flinched when he discovered the source of the sizzling noise was the rickety stool burning in a roaring, blistering pool of flames. Professor McGonagall shakily raised her wand, and with a swish of her hand the flames disappeared, but the blackened remains of the chair were like a permanently etched scar for Harry.

"Well then, better be, Gryffindor!" The sorting hat shouted, breaking the uncomfortable silence in the great hall. The hat was no longer on the stool, but on its side on the steps, near Harry. He presumed that in his panic he had thrown the hat off his head onto the ground. He walked over to the hat and picked it up as the Gryffindor table began cheering, albeit rather cautiously, for their newest member.

"Just remember to control your fears, Potter," the hat said quietly to Harry as he carried it back up to its charred throne. "Uncontrolled fire burns all that venture in its path. Fire doesn't discriminate; it consumes and destroys all equally. Don't let it destroy yourself." Harry lowered the ominous, dictating hat upon the stool and walked over to the red and gold table in a daze.

Harry probably would have walked straight into the Gryffindor table if it hadn't been for a nearly headless ghost to breeze through him, sending chills running down his spine, and returning his focus to reality. He eyed the table, and tried to figure out where he should sit. A particular red haired student was eyeing him eagerly, and Harry was about to move over to greet him, when he realized that the student in question was sitting beside Ryan.

Abandoning that option, Harry's eyes roamed down the table until they landed on a particular, brown haired student who, for some reason, gave off a strong sense of nostalgia. Harry moved closer to the student, who Harry realized on closer inspection was sitting alone He was surrounded by students of a far lower grade who were too busy interacting with their peers to pay any notice to the larger wizard.

" 'Scuse me," Harry said to the younger students as he pushed himself between them, and opposite the brown haired boy. He had the look of someone who had just recently lost the last of their baby fat, and were finally beginning to shape out as a man. Unfortunately, his hunched over shoulders and lowered head showed that despite his age, the boy was still incredibly unconfident in himself. Harry knew the boy from somewhere, but the name was just eluding his memory.

"Lo Harry," the boy mumbled quietly as he raised his head in greeting. Harry gasped as he saw the hazel brown eyes, and remembered the boy.

"Neville," Harry said, astonishment in his voice, "you're Neville Longbottom, aren't you!" Neville jerked his head in affirmation and embarrassment. "No way, it's been years since I've seen you. Last time was when your Grandmother finally picked you up and took you out of the orphanage. How old were you again? Ten?"

"Eleven," Neville mumbled in response, but Harry could barely hear him.

"Sorry, what was that Neville, couldn't quite catch it," Harry said.

Neville cleared his throat before responding. "I was eleven when my grandmother picked me up from the orphanage. It was the same day my Hogwarts letter arrived." Harry remembered that day clearly now. When Neville's letter had arrived, claiming the existence of magic, Harry finally realized what it had been that had made him different from most other children. Unfortunately, only Neville had received a letter, and Harry was left at the orphanage, one friend short.

"Ah, that's right. It feels like only yesterday now that I think about it, but that was years ago, wasn't it?"

"It was," Neville said, his voice growing more confident as he became more comfortable with his old friend. "How is that orphanage doing? Still standing?"

Harry's smile slid off his face as memories of the day he had left the orphanage returned. "No, it's gone," Harry managed to say.

"What about Mr. Peterson? Is he still doing well?"

"He's dead," Harry replied bluntly, suddenly not enjoying his decision to sit with Neville. The conversation was bringing up horrid memories.

"Be quiet," one of the other seventh year students hissed at Harry and Neville, who both promptly fell quiet, needing no extra motivation.

"Trudi, Leann," McGonagall called out, and thus Harry proceeded to watch the rest of the sorting. Padfoot dragged the motorcycle pieces out of the great hall as stealthily as he could, and by the time McGonagall had reached "Williams, John," he had finished his task, and had taken his place proudly beside Harry at the Gryffindor table.

"Zabini, Lillian," McGonagall called out, and the whole school cheered when he was sorted into Slytherin, not because of the house he was placed in, but because the last student being sorted meant food was incoming. Dumbledore stood up from his grand seat, and with a wave of his arms silenced the great hall.

"Although I have several important announcements to make, I will assume that that they are less important than your stomach's desire, so without further ado, dig in!" The old man commanded in his calming, yet authoritative voice. The school cheered once more, before claiming the food that had magically appeared in front of them.

Harry normally would have refused to touch the food until he knew where it had mysteriously appeared from, but the long day was draining on his stubbornness, so he relentlessly dug in. Harry consoled himself with the reasoning that the food had appeared via magic, and as magic was possible of achieving the impossible, magically appearing food was really not the unexplainable or mysterious.

* * *

Ryan Potter had never been one to be jealous of another's popularity. He detested being the Boy-who-lived. He hated the stares that wizards on the street would give him, or the gossip that would follow him everywhere he went. He hated the attention because he felt that he didn't deserve it. It was true that as an infant he had somehow defeated Lord Voldemort, but that was the crux of the matter. He had 'somehow', as a baby, done 'something' that he couldn't even remember, and because of that, he was treated like a hero. It was ridiculous.

That didn't mean that Ryan wasn't a proud person however. He had most definitely inherited that trait from his father. It was because of this that Ryan was currently grinding his teeth in self contained fury at his pseudo brother. Harry Potter. The name didn't even sound didn't right to him; it didn't quite roll of the tongue properly.

Ryan had always been proud of his second year entrance to Hogwarts with his friend Ron Weasley. He had been in so much trouble, and his mum had sent him a howler every day for a week, but it had been worth it, because for once in his life, people were talking about Ryan, not as the Boy-who-lived, but as the boy who crashed a flying car into the whomping willow. It was something Ryan could clearly remember and know for certain that he had actually done, and he felt proud of that.

Therefore, when his supposed twin brother had saved a little girl from a flying motorcycle that had smashed through the beautifully constructed stain glass windows of the great hall, Ryan had been quite furious. No longer was flying a car into the whomping willow cool. Now, a flying motorcycle through a window into the great hall was cool.

What was worse was that he had expected to be joined in his outrage by Ron, but for some reason, his best mate was staring at the other Potter in respect. Respect! The only thing Ryan had seen Ron respect before now were the Chudley Cannons.

Things had only proceeded downhill when Harry had put on the sorting hat, began screaming, and set him, the hat and the stool ablaze. Curiously enough, only the stool had suffered from the raging fire, but Ryan didn't care about that. Ryan was furious that this Potter imposter was acting like he had some painful memory in his head and that he needed special treatment because of that. Had anyone ever cared during Ryan's six years of Hogwarts about the constant headaches and nightmares that Voldemort had plagued him with? Other than Ron, Hermione and the school nurse, no they had not. Yet, for some reason, students were whispering amongst themselves about the horrible life that Harry must have had to react like that.

What was even more bothersome was that his mysterious brother hadn't even sat down next to him, and introduced himself. Ryan was furious, as he had been ready to tear apart the imposter's identity, but instead Harry had gone and sat beside Neville Longbottom. Not that Ryan had anything personally against Neville, it was just that the kid was always on the verge of having a nervous breakdown or something like that. He was an easy target for the Slytherins and he never tried to stand up for himself, something that all Gryffindor were practically obliged to do.

Now there was food spread along the table, but Ryan found he was no longer hungry. Ron was, like usual, shoveling spoonfuls of food into his mouth at a ridiculous pace, and Ryan turned away from the sight, rather disgusted. To his left was the only reason that Ryan was currently controlling his warring emotions. Ginny had decided to sit next to Ryan, and Ryan could not be more pleased. He deduced that the two had definitely come a long way since the Summer holidays, and that if he kept this up, he would be able to ask her out soon. Ryan couldn't wait to hold Ginny in his arms and taste her wonderfully seductive lips.

A kick in the shins distracted Ryan from his fantasy, and he turned around to face Hermione, who was glaring at him rather menacingly. Unsure as to the reason of the glare, Ryan simply gave her a smile and asked her what was wrong. She then proceeded to delve into a conversation about the principals of animagus transformation, something Ryan was all too eager to discuss, and he quickly found himself mentally fighting between which girl he was meant to be focusing on.

When desert arrived, Ryan's attention was dragged away from both girls when Harry stood up from the Gryffindor table. The whole school watched Harry in confusion and intrigue as he cockily strode over to the Ravenclaw table. Ryan almost sneered as he watched the man dressed in those cool looking Muggle clothes saunter across the room. Ryan once again felt himself growing irritated at the newcomer. It was tradition in Hogwarts, especially during the opening feast, for students to stay at their house table. This foreigner was clearly disrespecting the rules.

Harry strode over to where the blonde haired girl he had saved from the flying motorcycle sat and began conversing with her. All too soon the two were laughing while the girl climbed up Harry's chest and onto his shoulders. Harry just laughed loudly, dragging even more attention onto him, before he whispered something in her ear, and the girl quickly sobered. Ryan could've sworn he could see tears, and he wondered just what insensitive comment Harry had said that made the girl cry.

A seventh year Ravenclaw prefect walked over to see what was going on and, Ryan assumed, to tell Harry off. Instead of being a given a stern talking to however, the prefect happily took the girl from Harry and the three began talking and laughing amongst themselves. Just what was going on?

"Hermione," Ryan asked, "do you know the name of that Ravenclaw prefect?" Before Hermione could respond however, Ron surprisingly did.

"That's Padma Patil," Ron replied, and Ryan noticed that he was staring at the Ravenclaw girl quite strangely.

"How do you know her?" Ryan asked his friend.

"She was my Yule ball date in fourth year," Ron replied absently, still watching the Indian prefect.

"Do you still talk to her?" Ryan asked; he was certain that he had never seen Ron talking to any Ravenclaws before.

"No, I don't," Ron said, "I probably should though," he added, as a distant, thoughtful look crossed his face.

"You're impossible Ronald," Hermione snapped at the red headed teenager, who turned to gape at Hermione.

"Huh, what'd I do Hermione?" Ron asked.

"Nothing," she practically snarled in response, before returning her attention to her desert.

"Bloody women," Ron muttered to himself, but he was looking rather hurt and confused. Ryan was about to console his friend, when he remembered that he was currently incredibly angry with Ron, especially over the whole Weasley twin's incident. Ryan was fortunately saved having to console his 'friend', when a moist, soft nose nuzzled into his chest.

"Hey there, Padfoot, how you doing?" Ryan asked, knowing full well that the dog was Sirius in his animagus disguise. Padfoot barked loudly three times, his tail wagging madly, indicating that he was incredibly happy about something.

"You'll have to tell me later, boy, alright?" Ryan said, and the dog barked in agreement, before running off to sit by Harry who had returned to the Gryffindor table, causing Ryan to frown. Why was Sirius sitting with Harry and not him? Unless it was because Sirius knew that Harry was a fake, and was keeping a close eye on him. That must've been it!

Soon after Harry sat back down the desert faded away, and the great hall's occupants stared expectantly at the wizened, loving, beard sporting headmaster. Dumbledore stood up and began to announce the changes to Hogwarts, and some basic information for the first-years.

"I am pleased to announce that Professor Lupin will be returning to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts," there was much cheering at this, especially from Ryan, who was ecstatic to have his godfather teaching again. He had been, by far, the best Defence teacher he'd had during his six years of Hogwarts.

"I am unfortunately forced to damper this joyful mood by announcing that during the recent holidays, Voldemort," the occupants of the room flinched and gasped, barring Ryan, and to his irritation, Harry. It appeared to Ryan though that Harry wasn't actually brave however, but rather ignorant to the name.

"The Ministry refuses to declare his return officially, but I feel that it is my duty to inform you children that a terrible darkness has arisen, a darkness that not even the Ministry can contain, and thus they flee from the truth in fear."

"I do not tell you this to scare you. I tell you this to inform you to be wary. Do not attempt to leave the premise of Hogwarts without permission, and if you notice any peculiar or suspicious behaviour in any of your classmates or teachers, report it to an authority immediately."

"I am disappointed to end this marvelous feast on such a sad note, but alas, it is time for bed, and so it is time to embark towards your common rooms. Prefects, you know what to do."

As Dumbledore sat back down, students began slowly standing up and leaving the great hall. Prefects herded the lost looking first-years out of the eating area and to their respective common rooms. Ryan, being a Head Boy, was required to wait until after the students had left, and be debriefed by the Headmaster on important matters for this school year.

As Ryan waited for the student's to leave the great hall, he spotted Ron talking to the Ravenclaw prefect, Padma, that he had seen earlier. Intrigued into Ron's sudden friendship with someone outside of Gryffindor, he walked over to see what the two were talking about. Ryan frowned further as the two began laughing amiably over something spoken.

"Hey Ron, what are you two talking about?" Ryan asked, and was surprised to see Ron glare at him in annoyance in response.

"We're talking about my big brother!" A small voice said from below Ryan. He glanced down, and discovered that the source of the voice was the blonde witch that had jumped off the motorcycle.

"By brother, she means Harry," Padma explained, dampening Ryan's mood. "Aren't those two adorable? Harry even asked me personally to look out for her in the Ravenclaw common room because he can't be there."

"Yeah, he sounds like a decent bloke, doesn't he?" Ron asked Ryan, to which Ryan just harrumphed in response. "Right, I forgot the introductions, didn't I?" Ron continued, oblivious to Ryan's irritation. "Willow, this is Ryan, Ryan, this is Willow."

Willow gave Ryan a large smile in greeting, but when Ryan refused to even twitch her lips, she poked her tongue out at him instead, and grabbed onto the sleeve of Padma's robe.

"Come on Padma, let's catch up to Georgia," the small girl said, referring to the first-year Ravenclaw girl Willow had quickly become friends with. Padma laughed at the little girl's antics as she allowed herself to be dragged out of the great hall.

"I'll see you tomorrow Ron?" Padma asked just before she was about to slide around the door.

"Of course, double charms first thing," Ron replied, giving the girl a wide, cheery smile, before she disappeared.

"No wonder Hermione's furious with you," Ryan commented, causing Ron to look at him with a blank expression.

"Wha'dya mean by that?" Ron said cluelessly.

"Nothing, Ron," Ryan snapped, his emotions finally breaking loose. He strode over to where Dumbledore was waiting for him, but he wasn't fast enough to miss Ron's response.

"Why is everyone so angry with me," the red head replied sadly before trundling slowly towards his common room.

Ten minutes later, Dumbledore, Ryan, and Susan Bones were crowded into the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore gave the Headboy and girl a run down of their responsibilities and privileges. He also stressed the importance of Voldemort's return, and Ryan was terribly glad that Susan was the chosen Headgirl. She accepted Voldemort's return, albeit with some fear. Her parting comment "the Bone's family is not ignorant to such happenings," also suggested that Ryan had a potential ally high up within the Ministry.

Susan left Dumbledore's office as soon as he had finished debriefing the two of them, but as Ryan made to leave, a black, shaggy rocket burst up the spiral staircase. After colliding with Dumbledore's desk and shaking the various and valuable silver trinkets, Sirius transformed back into his human self and began jumping around the room in unbound excitement.

"We found him Albus, he's alive, and we found him. This is amazing, why didn't you tell me earlier? You did know that he'd show up, didn't you?" At this point, Sirius had circled Dumbledore's haphazard desk twice and was only now beginning to calm down, physically at least. His emotions were still soaring high, and glee and relief covered the ex-convict's usually gaunt, desolate face.

"I knew that he'd show up. Now, please calm down Sirius, there are things I must explain-"

"Calm down? Calm down!" Sirius's voice was hysterical, but not angry, simply ecstatic. "We've finally found my godson, and you tell me to calm down? We should be celebrating, drinking, blowing things up, you know what I'm talking about." Dumbledore just sighed, and leant back in his chair, waiting for Sirius to sober.

"Sirius, what do you mean by godson?" Ryan asked. Ryan knew from his parents that Sirius had originally been proclaimed his godfather, but after he had been sent to Azkaban, his parents had retracted the statement. Ryan was now proud to be able to say that Remus Lupin was his godfather. There had been a lot of obstacles to overcome, what with the anti-werewolf sentiments, but the Potter's had pushed down with their full weight of power, and it had become clear on that day that when the Potter's wanted something, they received it.

Sirius hurled himself over, grabbed Ryan's wrists and began swinging him around in circles. "Ryan, you're never going to believe this, but your twin brother's alive. We finally found him after sixteen years.

"What do you mean Sirius, I don't have a twin, I'm an only child," Ryan replied, growing angry as he realized that Sirius had fallen for the other Potter's sham.

"Of course you have a twin Ryan. It's Harry! Your parents must have told you all about him," Sirius exclaimed, not yet suspicious of Ryan's lack of excitement.

"No, mum and dad told me absolutely nothing about my so called twin brother, and personally, I don't believe that Harry is at all related to me." The blunt, angry voice of Ryan finally cut through to Sirius, and the gaunt man looked confused.

"I'm afraid, Ryan, that Mr. Black is indeed telling the truth," Dumbledore said, interrupting the argument. "Harry Potter is undoubtedly your twin brother, separated from your family the night Voldemort attacked."

"And how come I've never heard of this brother before? How come the whole wizarding world has never heard of any of this before?" Ryan demanded, his voice growing louder.

"James and Lily both agreed that, believing that Harry would never be seen again, you would have a far more comfortable childhood if you were not to know of the absence of a family member. Therefore, the whole situation has been kept highly confidential. The only ones who knew outside the family were myself, Harry's godfather and Voldemort," Dumbledore explained. Ryan noticed that Sirius looked both incredibly confused and outraged as he listened to Dumbledore.

"But Dumbledore-"

"Not now Sirius," the Headmaster interrupted abruptly, his twinkling, sapphire eyes flashing dangerously. Ryan winced as he felt the temperature in the room rise slightly. Fawkes began trilling a soft, melodic tune, causing Dumbledore to calm down almost immediately.

"I've kept you from your marvelous house for far too long Ryan. You are free to return to your common room now," Dumbledore said in a genial, grandfatherly voice, but Ryan wasn't fooled. It wasn't a suggestion, but an order to leave.

"Play nice Ryan," Sirius said nervously as Ryan stormed out of the room, his infamous Potter temper getting the better of him.

"Sirius," Ryan began sternly, his barely contained fury bubbling beneath the surface of the single word.

"For me pup. Play nice for me," Sirius said, and the expectant and hopeful look in the man's usually vacant gray eyes crushed Ryan's resistance. Ryan gave a brisk nod of his head, before descending down the stone, spiraling staircase in a far more composed and dignified manner. Once the scraping sound of the gargoyle sliding back into place finished Sirius turned to face the Headmaster.

"Now, Dumbledore, what was so necessary about-"

"Obliviate," Dumbledore cried, pushing all of his power into the single spell to overcome the ex-convict's powerful mental resistance. Years in Azkaban had crafted Sirius's mind into a steel fortress, impenetrable even to Dumbledore when the gaunt man was actively trying to keep intruders out.

Unfortunately for Sirius, he had not been expecting Albus Dumbledore, leader of the light, to tamper with his mind, and Dumbledore's spell sliced thourhg the steel fortress like it was warm butter. Albus held the spell with his fifteen inch elder wand for two whole minutes as he shifted through Sirius's mind, erasing specific memories relating to Harry.

Harry was waving his small, chubby hand at a chubby man who was transforming into a rat and reverting to a human for the baby's amusement.

That memory had to go, Albus decided, and with a swish of his wand, Sirius forgot all remembrance that Peter Pettigrew had once known about the existence of the mysterious Potter Twin.

An old, white haired lady reading an amusing excerpt from a fictional novel she had wrote in her younger years. The book was far less popular than her "Hogwarts: A History," but at the bubbling chuckle she received from the adorable, green eyed child, she couldn't help but feel that her fictional book was more incredible.

Gone was Bathilda Bagshot's intrusion into Harry's life. Albus swished his elder wand, and the memory disappeared from existence. No one must know that they had once known Harry Potter. The boy could not have any attachments to the wizarding world if he were to fulfill his destiny.

Frank and Alice Longbottom were comparing the two adorable babies with the Potters. The brown eyed baby was slightly larger than the baby sporting black hair, but neither pair of parents reacted in jealousy. Rather, they coveted the babies with love, while Sirius sat in the background, chuckling at the babyish antics that were going on.

Albus paused momentarily before wiping the memory from existence. The Longbottoms were still under serious rehabilitation from prolonged exposure to the cruciatus curse. Albus had deemed it unnecessary to wipe the Longbottoms minds of Harry Potter, a fortunate side effect of the couple's circumstance, as they did not appear to ever be able to recover and properly communicate. However, Harry must never learn that the couple once played a role in his life, and thus Albus was forced to wipe that event from Sirius's mind.

A woman no older than Sirius with long, straight raven hair falling down to her waist was cuddling the small baby. She turned around and smiled up at Sirius happily, and Sirius smiled back, placing a comforting hand upon her shoulder. Sirius then transformed into a lovable, black dog and began nuzzling the baby, who cheered and laughed in response.

Albus paused to analyze the memory. The woman on closer inspection appeared to be slightly younger than Sirius, probably 18 or 19 compared to Sirius's 21. She was a beautiful young lady, but Albus, for all his extensive memory, could not recall her existence. The Headmaster was positive that the woman had never attended Hogwarts, which asked the question, who was she, and where did she come from? Albus paled slightly as he realized that there had been a loose end roaming around for the past sixteen years, and he had been completely oblivious. This called for an immediate reaction. Taking care to memorize the woman's face, Albus swished his wand, removed the memory, and finally having completed his job, released Sirius.

But not before removing Sirius's memory of Albus obliviating him.

Sirius blinked lazily, and his mouth was half open as if he were in a stupor. He took in his surroundings, and quickly realizing where he was, snapped his mouth shut, and faced the Headmaster.

"Now Dumbledore, what was so necessary about not telling Harry that other people knew of him as a child?" Sirius asked.

"But whatever do you mean, Sirius?" Albus asked, forever the essence of innocence. "Who else other than James, Lily, you, Voldemort and myself knew of Harry's existence?"

Sirius opened his mouth to reply, his shoulders pushed back in confidence and arrogance, thinking that he was finally going to be able to prove the Headmaster wrong, a near impossible task. However, he found himself pausing in mid-speak, trying to recall the name he had been about to say. Had it been Peter Pettigrew? No, that was impossible, because Sirius had no memories of Peter ever meeting Harry.

'I- you're right, sorry Dumbledore," Sirius said, his eyes narrowed in confusion as he tried to reorder his suddenly disorganized mind.

"Not a problem, my dear boy," Albus said cheerfully, "now, why don't you chase after Ryan and spend some time with Harry. I'm sure that after sixteen years, the two of you could spend some time catching up."

"Of course, now that Harry's back, I wouldn't do anything else," Sirius laughed gleefully, "not even an obliviate could steal this from me," the man joked before transforming into a dog and bounding down the stairs.

"How wrong you are, my dear boy," Albus murmured softly to himself once the pattering paws of Padfoot were no longer audible.

"How wrong you are."

* * *

Ryan strolled through Hogwart's hallways considerably calmer than he had felt after the welcoming feast. When Harry, his newfound twin, had made his absurd entrance into the great hall, Ryan had to admit, he had been angry. After talking with Dumbledore and Sirius however, Ryan had come to realize that he had been a little abrupt in his analysis of his brother. Sirius was right, Ryan shouldn't hate his brother; he should accept him into the family.

"Portcullis," Ryan spoke to the Fat Lady, who smiled sweetly at him before twisting her hinges open. Ryan climbed through the portrait hole and into the warm, cozy common room that he absolutely adored.

"Hey there Ryan," Seamus said, his dirty blond hair unkempt and slightly charred, and judging by the amount of black smoke surrounding the seventh year, he had just blown up another one of his experiments.

"Hey Seamus, I hope I don't have to tell you off for something. I've only been Headboy for half a day you know," Ryan said jokingly, to which Seamus just laughed and clapped Ryan on the back, awakening clouds of black smog.

"As long as you know that it's Fred and George who hire me, so that you can blame them and not me," Seamus replied in good nature, but Ryan's face darkened at the mention of the Weasley twins. Talking about Weasleys though…

"Do you know where Ginny is?" Ryan asked Seamus. Seamus grinned in response.

"She's in the seventh floor boys dormitory talking with Ron. I think as Headboy you should tell her off for being on boy's territory."

"Oh come on Seamus, you guys would probably mutiny against me if I started kicking women out of the dorm."

"Too right you are mate," Seamus replied, before turning around sheepishly when a loud explosion went off by the fireplace. "Ah, I should probably go check on that, y'know, before it gets any worse," said the Irish boy before he hurried off to the fireplace to calm the now raging hearth.

Ryan skipped up the steps to his new dorm. He couldn't believe his luck; Ginny was waiting for him at his dorm. Ryan didn't think anything could pop his bubble of joy inside him.

Anything, that was, except for Harry Potter.

As Ryan marched through the archway into the dorm, he spotted Harry playing a game of wizard chess with Ron. The two were arguing, not about the fact that Harry was being dismally defeated, but at the fact that Harry didn't like the magical concept of the board game.

Harry grabbed his black squared white bishop and dragged it across the board, only for the animated piece to stab him in the thumb with its needle like sword.

"Bloody hell, what is your problem," Harry shouted at the bishop as he sucked his bleeding thumb. The piece didn't respond, but instead crossed it's arms haughtily in defiance.

"Just say the coordinates Harry, its not that difficult," Ron said, trying to broker a peace between the bishop and the injured boy.

"Fine. Let's see here, A, B, C, D, E and 1, 2, 3 to go to, A, B, C, D, E, F-" Harry stopped suddenly. "Bloody hell, I can't do this, it's too many numbers and letters. I forfeit, you win," he said in irritation, to which his white pieces turned around and began bellowing angrily at him. The bishop in question earlier threw his sword at Harry, pricking him in the arm.

"Come on Harry, don't give up yet, you're doing so well," Ron said, but the grin on his face suggested that Harry wasn't actually doing that well, and Ron just wanted to complete his winning plan.

"My pieces are demanding my head on a silver platter, and you have the tenacity to say that I'm doing well?" Harry queried the ginger boy, but there was an amused smile on both boys' faces. Ginny began giggling at Harry's antics.

And Ryan's blood began to boil.

"How about this Harry, you show me where you want the piece to go, and I'll give the orders," Ginny said, striking a reasonable compromise.

"Do I trust you to say the right moves?" Harry asked in a teasing voice.

"I think it's safe to say you should," Ginny replied as she leant over Harry, and in a clear voice ordered the black bishop to move.

The sight of Harry so close to Ginny, his Ginny, finally caused him to snap. He stamped over to his bed, which just so happened to be the one that Ron was lounging on. He pushed the chessboard over, which was being magically levitated between the two beds by Ginny, thus scattering the pieces across the floor. Harry looked up in confusion, but his eyes narrowed when he recognized who had caused the interruption.

"You," Ryan said harshly, "are not my brother. I don't care if we have the same parents, I don't care if we share the same blood. I will not accept you as my brother, now, or ever." Without waiting for a response, Ryan pushed the stunned Ron off his bed and swept his hands angrily, causing the curtains to swish around the four poster bed, hiding him from the looks of outrage from Ron, disbelief from Ginny, and smirk of amusement from Harry.

* * *

******Only events up to middle of OOTP are canon. All events after that (Like Sirius's death, obviously) are not canon. For example, Voldemort never had the mass Azkaban break out, because he was in hiding at the time. Therefore, Neville never had the motivation to brave up and face the Lestranges, therefore, he's still a wimpy kid (but fear not, for things shall soon change). I'll keep informing you guys what's canon and what's not throughout my story :P**

**Cheers**

**-Council**


	9. Old Dog and New Tricks

"Swish and flick, Mr. Potter, swish and flick," the diminutive professor instructed, waving his wand in such fashion, but without the incantation the feather upon the desk refused to float.

Harry glanced at the Charm's professor, who was standing patiently in front of Harry's desk. The man's head only just surfaced the height of the desk, and if Harry weren't concentrating so intently upon his feather he would have found the sight quite humourous. Harry had his redwood wand out and try as he might he couldn't douse the flames that rippled along the surface. He just hoped it wouldn't have any unnatural side effects on his spell work.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry shouted, simultaneously swishing and flicking his sizzling wand. The feather upon the desk burst into flames, quickly doused by Professor Flitwick with a wave of his own wand.

"I hate fire," Harry muttured to himself as Flitwick conjured another feather to practice on.

"Cheer up Mr. Potter. That was your first time attempting a spell, correct? Most wizards don't even cause anything magical to happen their first time." The professor pushed the feather towards Harry, indicating him to try again.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry shouted, and once again, a crackling fire consumed the feather.

"And again, Mr. Potter."

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry shouted, this time quite angrily, and was both pleased and disappointed with the result. The feather rocketed into the air, but only because of the explosion that had taken place moments before.

"Well Mr. Potter, you've learnt your first requirement in spell casting; never let your emotions influence your magic." A round of laughter followed Flitwick's statement, and Harry shrunk into his chair in embarrassment.

"Silence please," Flitwick asked of his seventh year class, and the laughter slowly died away, Ryan's laughter being the slowest to disappear. "Now, Mr. Potter, what to do? I can't keep conjuring feathers and dousing flames for you all class, I have others to teach."

"It's fine Professor, teach your lesson, I'll just-"

Harry was interrupted when two large, metal pails crashed into the ground either side of his desk. One contained more feathers than a single bird could possible have, while the other contained liters of water.

"I'll leave you to it then," the short professor proclaimed before waddling off to help the seventh years with their NEWT level charms work.

Harry just groaned as he leant back in his wooden chair. He threw his wand on the desk in defeat, and was relieved to note that its flaming coat vanished the moment the wood left his hand. If it hadn't, the wooden desk would have been firewood by now. Harry glanced around the classroom as he pondered his helplessness, and he found his eyes focusing on Ryan, who was smirking at him. Harry growled back, but there was little else he could do.

Irritated by the baggy material, Harry discarded his black robe on the wooden back of his chair, revealing a white shirt that was stretched around the shoulders and chest, and a relatively new looking pair of dark blue jeans. Harry assumed that, with his motorcycle currently out of order, he would not have to worry with dirtying his clothes with grease, and had, on a gamble, worn some of his nicer clothes.

"Ms. Brown, can you please pay attention," Flitwick asked, an amused chirp in his high-pitched voice. Harry looked at the rest of the class, and realized that Flitwick's source of amusement was that the general female population of the classroom was staring at him rather hungrily. Harry shivered nervously at his own comparison to a sandwich, but when he spotted Ryan's upset frown, he returned a satisfying smirk to his brother.

"10 points from Gryffindor for abusing dress code," Ryan called from across the room, flashing his Headboy badge at the same time. This resulted in more than a few uproarious comments, not just from Gryffindor members, but from the Ravenclaw (girls) as well.

Trying to restore order to his class, Professor Flitwick cast a silencing charm upon the students. "Dress code differs within a classroom, based upon a teacher's expectations, Mr. Potter. Therefore, you have no basis to take those points," Flitwick lectured, his eyes directed at Ryan. "As for your brother," Flitwick turned to face Harry. "I have no issue with you wearing Muggle clothing within my class, but be wary within other classes, and be sure to don your robes in the hallways."

"Yes Professor," Harry replied, while Ryan grumbled his agreement reluctantly.

"However, if you continue to entrance Ms. Brown like this all class, I may be forced to ask you to return the robe," Flitwick said, amusement once again bouncing in his voice, especially when Lavender flushed bright red, and hurriedly turned to the front, knocking her quill and ink off the table in the process. Her partner Parvati sighed and cleaned up the mess with a wave of her wand. Unfortunately the spilt ink was unable to be re-used, and Lavender was absent of any writing tools.

Groaning, Harry reached into his ever-faithful enlarged backpack, and pulled out one of his several vials of ink. He then stood up, walked over to Lavender's table, ignoring the stares and silence that accompanied him, and placed the vial upon her desk.

"I would have levitated it over, but you know, I'd probably blow it up or something," Harry said, smiling at the girl.

"Th-thanks," Lavender stuttered, but Harry was already walking back to his desk. As he walked by Ron's table, the ginger boy slipped Harry a thumbs up, and mouthed "nice one."

"You too," Harry mouthed back, tilting his head at Padma, who was Ron's charms partner this lesson, and winked. Ron just looked confused however, and Harry shook his head in disappointment. Obviously Ron was oblivious to Padma's growing obsession on him.

"Alright class, enough distractions. Please pay attention. To charm an object to be unbreakable is incredibly difficult, but it is just the basics when compared to the other NEWT charms…" Harry zoned Flitwick's voice out as he pretended to focus on floating his bucket load of feathers. In actuality, Harry was replaying the events of the great hall in his head again.

* * *

Harry strolled into the great hall, gratefully being led in by Padfoot. Harry had woken up to the black dog curled up and napping at the foot of his bed. Remembering that the dog was in fact a grown man, Harry had been slightly disturbed to have slept with another man without knowing, but once Padfoot was up and running around, barking and wagging his tail like any dog would, Harry found he didn't really care. It seemed that rather than Sirius transforming himself to look like a dog, he actually transformed to become an actual dog. It was only a slight difference, but it made a lot of sense to Harry.

Padfoot bounded over to the Gryffindor table, and Harry followed, chuckling at the dog's antics. Harry was oblivious to the stares and murmurs of other students as they began analyzing Harry's 'familiar'. He sat at the Gryffindor table that was only half full. Harry, having woken up earlier than a lot of his room mates, could have possible been the first to the great hall, but he had gotten lost in the maze called Hogwarts, and it hadn't been until Padfoot grew irritated that Harry followed the hungry dog.

Remembering that Padfoot was hungry, Harry sat himself down and threw a few strips of bacon to the panting dog who devoured them instantly. Harry alternated between eating his own meal of bacon, eggs and toast and tossing Padfoot various pieces of food from the table. More people began entering and crowding the great hall, but Harry was still able to spot Willow the moment she entered.

"Hey motor girl," Harry called to Willow as he pushed his way through the hungry students.

"Harry!" Willow squealed, and she went into a running jump at Harry, who stumbled backwards, barely keeping himself upright.

"Oof, you're lucky I don't drop you," Harry said, wrapping his arms around the girl in a morning hug.

"You wouldn't dare drop a lady, would you?" A more mature woman's voice said behind Harry, and he swung around to face Padma.

"What, like this," Harry said as he let Willow slip from his grip. He caught her at the last moment, but not before she let out a shrill scream.

"Harry!" Padma admonished, but her stern face fell apart and she began giggling. "Go back to your table before I take house points off of you, and tell Ron I said good morning."

"Yes ma'am," Harry replied, and after lowering Willow to the ground, gave her a military salute before marching back to the Gryffindors. He heard girlish chuckling from behind him.

"My brother's an idiot, isn't he," Willow said, loudly enough for Harry to hear.

"He's an idiot alright," Padma agreed, but Harry could hear her grin in her voice.

As Harry approached the Gryffindor table, he noticed that the atmosphere felt surprisingly different from when he had left a couple minutes earlier. The occupants of the table seemed tense, and almost guarded. Harry shook his head, thinking he was imagining things, and sat himself down. He fiddled with his robes as he waited for the schooling day to actually start, as he was already done with breakfast. He finally decided that robes were indeed uncomfortable, and most certainly not Harry's desired form of clothing. He was relieved that he'd had the sense to put on jeans and a shirt underneath.

Still mentally complaining about the regulated clothing, he barely noticed Ron's presence until the boy sat down opposite him.

"So who died?" Ron asked as he began shoveling food onto his plate, not seeming to care what it was he scooped on there.

"Huh?" Was all Harry replied with.

"What's with the atmosphere? It hasn't been like this since the Goblet of Fire," Ron said, glancing up and down the table.

"So I'm not imagining it then?" Harry muttered to himself. "So you don't know what it is?"

"Nah, I don't talk much in the morning. Too hungry," Ron said simply between bites of food.

"It's because of Ryan," a new voice said, and Harry shuffled aside to make room for Neville as the timid boy slipped in beside him.

"Morning Neville," Harry said to the brown haired boy.

"Wha'd'ya mean by Ryan?" Ron asked, food still in his mouth.

"As the guys were showering in the morning, he was going on about how Harry is a spy, and not his real brother. People aren't too sure who to believe," Neville said as he began slipping eggs on his plate.

"You mean that people don't believe my last name is Potter?" Harry said, growling. He didn't care for his family members, but he still felt pride in his last name. Neville began quaking at Harry's furious tone, and Harry instantly apologized.

"S'ok Harry, I'm just a coward. It's no wonder no one believed me when I tried to tell them Ryan was wrong," Neville said softly. Harry glanced up and down the Gryffindor table and noticed that they, the guys in particular, were sending rather hostile glares at him.

"Don't worry about it Neville. You stood up for me, that's all that matters," Harry said, a little touched that the scared boy had come to his defense. "You're worth ten of them."

"S'true Neville. Ten o' dem," Ron managed through a mouthful of food.

"Neville's already incurring their wrath, but are you sure you want to be sitting with us Ron? I'm obviously not Mr. Popular right now," Harry said, trying to avoid the now not-so-subtle glares being directed at him. Ron paused to swallow his food before responding, an achievement Harry was rather proud.

"Ryan's just being a git. It happens all the time. Trust me, Gryffindor will be back to normal in a week," Ron said, and his voice was so confident Harry couldn't help but believe his new friend. Any further response was interrupted by Professor McGonagall dropping their schedules on their table. Ron and Neville eagerly grabbed theirs and began scanning them, while Harry looked at McGonagall expectantly.

"Where's my schedule Professor?" Harry asked the stern witch, who stared back at him frostily. Harry supposed the events of last night were still fresh in mind.

"You have a choice, Mr. Potter. You can either take classes with the first years, and learn the curriculum with them-" McGonagall explained.

"I'd really rather not, Professor," Harry said, interrupting her.

"Then please let me finish," she snapped, causing Harry to lower his head in contrite. "The other option is to share class with your seventh year classmates, but have the teachers instruct you to do independent, first year curriculum work."

Harry glanced at Ron and Neville, who both shrugged at him.

"It's your choice," Neville said softly.

"We can help you out with the first-year stuff pretty easily, if you want," Ron suggested helpfully.

"I'll sit with the seventh years please," Harry said to the old witch, giving his two friends a quick smile.

"If that's so Mr. Potter, then here is your schedule," she said as she handed him a folded piece of parchment before continuing down the table.

"So, what've we got first?" Harry asked as he unfolded his paper.

"Double charms with the claws," Ron said thoughtfully. Harry looked up from his paper, and staring past Ron, saw the Ravenclaw table where Willow was currently looking at her own schedule alongside Padma. The Indian prefect twisted in her seat to glance at the Gryffindor table. In particular, it seemed her gaze lingered on a certain ginger wizard. When Harry made eye contact with Padma, he gave her a sly wink, and tilted his head in Ron's direction. The witch glared at him before twisting back around, but not before Harry spotted a faint blush on her cheeks.

"Do you work in pairs for charms?" Harry asked, deciding to take some matters into his own hands.

"Yeah," Neville said sadly, "No one ever wants to be my partner though; I always mess things up."

"Don't worry Neville, if I'm allowed, I'll be your partner," Harry said, clapping the nervous boy on the back, substantially cheering him up. "But Ron, who are you going to partner with?" Harry asked, setting his plan into motion.

"With Ryan of course," he said as he began shoveling food in his mouth again, his curiosity about his schedule sated.

"But he looks like he's going to partner with Hermione," Harry said, pointing at Ryan and the bushy haired witch who were huddled over a book together. "Seamus and Dean seem to be best friends, and the two other Gryffindor girls will partner with each other I'm guessing."

"You're right," Ron said, looking a little dejected.

"What about a Ravenclaw?" Harry asked, "Padma for instance?" Harry said, prodding him further. Ron paused from eating food, another small accomplishment, and looked thoughtful for a few moments.

"Yeah, that's not a bad idea Harry. I'll ask Padma if I can pair with her." Seeming proud with his decision, Ron once again turned back to his food with vigour.

"Sorry about that Neville, I know he could have paired with you, but I'm trying to help him out a bit," Harry whispered to Neville. The boy barely looked dejected however, and instead grinned back at Harry before replying.

"Fine by me Harry. Besides, Ron'll need all the help he can get for this, trust me on that."

* * *

The boy truly was going to need all the help he could get, Harry thought to himself. Charms class had been going for over an hour, and Ron, thanks largely to Padma, had successfully charmed his chopstick to be unbreakable. The idiot was bragging about it to Hermione however, instead of to Padma, who was looking rather dejected.

Neville, who was working with Terry Boot on his chopstick, rolled his eyes at Harry, obviously having seen Ron's tactless display as well. Harry just gave him a regretful look, before turning back to his feathers. He grabbed one out of the bucket, lowered it to the wooden table, and swished his wand.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

"My my, Mr. Potter, still having trouble are we?" The Charms Professor asked as he eyed the sizzling, blackened feather.

"Somewhat, Professor," Harry said, sighing heavily and leaning back into his chair in defeat.

"Ryan, you and Weasley were quite proficient with the levitating charm in first year, if I recall correctly?"

"You mean with the troll?" Ryan asked, puffing out his chest in pride.

"Yes, exactly, that time with the troll. How about you help your brother Harry here with the charm. I'm sure you'll know exactly what it is he's doing wrong," Flitwick said, clearly not noticing the tension between the two boys. Ryan could barely refuse a teacher's request, and so he reluctantly stalked off to the other side of the classroom to where Harry was isolated.

"Alright Ryan, teach me the spell so we can both get the hell away from each other," Harry said, eyeing his brother disgustingly. This was the guy who had turned the Gryffindor house against him this morning. This was the son of the parents that had betrayed and abandoned Harry as a child. This was the boy who looked like a mirror image of Harry, except scrawnier, less muscled and shorter. They had the same messy, raven black hair, the same pointed nose, and the same the same piercing green eyes. Harry hated the similarities, and as the brothers continued to glare at one another, Harry presumed that Ryan too disliked the similarities.

"You're pathetic, you know that? Hiding away for all those years, than suddenly turning up at Hogwart's and claiming you're related to me."

"The spell, please," Harry growled between ground teeth.

"Swish and flick, wingardium leviosa, it's not that difficult," Ryan shot back.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry growled at the feather, and his frustration continued to grow as the feather curled in upon itself as flames tore away its fine threads.

"I could do that charm when I was eleven Harry. I knocked out a troll with it. You're hopeless. Not just as a wizard but as a person."

"You beat a troll? In what? a chess game? Because I can barely believe that one, especially with how you played last night," Harry hissed back at Ryan.

"You're just jealous of me Harry. Jealous that my parents chose me instead of you."

Harry snarled, finally having had enough of Ryan's constant barrage of insults. He lifted his wand from the new burn-free feather and at Ryan's chest, brandishing the weapon threateningly.

"Can't stand the heat Harry? Well it's not my fault, I understand now why mum and dad wanted to get rid of you. Look at you," Ryan's emerald green eye's were flashing angrily behind his rimmed glasses, the exact same kind of glasses Harry wore, and for the first time in his life, Harry found the emerald green eye colour to be ugly.

"What is your problem Ryan? I have done absolutely nothing to goad you into this, yet you have a barrage of insults waiting for me. I haven't seen you in sixteen years, and you start by spreading gossip about me. Leave me alone," Harry said, his voice low, steady, but dangerous, "or you'll regret it."

"Regret what? You can't even cast a floating charm you moron, what the hell do you think you can do? I'll tell you what, you stay the hell away from Ginny, or you'll regret it."

Harry couldn't believe his ears. All of this negativity, all this hatred, was over a girl. Harry knew that some guys were protective about their girlfriends, but this was absurd, Ginny wasn't even Ryan's girlfriend yet. Unable to contain his emotions anymore, Harry, his wand still pointing at Ryan, swished and flicked.

"Wingardium Leviosa," Harry growled, and smirked in amusement at his acquired result.

"I'm happy to say Ryan, that Ginny wears the fiery hair concept far better than you," Harry said in satisfaction as Ryan jumped out of his seat, swishing at his hair with his wand, willing the flames to go away. It was to no avail however, and by the time Flitwick managed to dispel the fire, Ryan's hair had been charred away.

"Be more careful next time, Mr. Potter," Flitwick said, and Harry was about to apologize, when he realized that the charms professor was focused on his brother. "You knew that Harry was having a problem with fire; you should have expected a misplaced spell," the Professor stated, leaving Harry free to smirk at Ryan in victory.

* * *

"I can't believe you set his hair on fire," Ron exclaimed to Harry in the great hall as lunch was being served. Harry just groaned and leaned into his hands.

"It was the worst possible thing I could've done," Harry said exasperatedly, "Even if they can charm his hair back, he's never going to forgive me for that."

"You're probably right. Don't worry about the hair though, Madame Pomfrey's grown back worse than that," Ron explained.

"Worse?"

"Don't ask," Neville said, shivering slightly.

"It's not just Ryan though, the whole Gryffindor house is going to be out for my blood now," Harry said, reverting back to the original topic.

"Hey Harry," a rather breathless, female voice said from behind him. He turned around in his seat to face Lavender Brown, the girl he had given his ink to in charm's class. She had long, dirty blonde hair and quite the impressive display of make up on her face, but it was done with talent, and certainly embellished her cherry lips.

"Hey Lavender, you alright?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just wanted to return your ink and quill, and say thank you," the girl said, battering her eyelashes at Harry. It was quite an alluring look, and Harry had to force himself to concentrate on receiving the ink and quill.

"It's not a problem, don't worry about it, I was glad to help," Harry replied.

"Also, I noticed you were having trouble with the charms work today. If you want, I could help you later," the flirty girl said.

"Uh, yeah, thanks. If I need help, I'll find you in the common room," Harry managed to say.

"Great, see you soon then Harry!" The girl left, and when she was finally out of earshot, Ron spoke up.

"You're right, I'd say all of Gryffindor is out for you Harry, just not all of them for your blood," Ron teased, a wicked grin on his face.

"Oh sod off you. You too Neville," Harry directed at his other friend who had started chuckling. "If you don't stop laughing I'll get Lavender to help me instead of you Neville."

"Are you sure that's not for the best though Harry?" Neville asked cautiously, "You saw me in class today, you know I'm not very good at this stuff."

"We'll just have to wait and see then, won't we," Harry said in a tone that brooked no further discussion. "Still, I wish my wand wouldn't set whatever I'm pointing it at on fire."

"Don't worry about it mate," Ron said reassuringly, "we have potions next, you don't use your wand at all in that class. It'll be impossible for you to set anything alight."

* * *

"Potter, can you please explain to me why your cauldron is on fire," Snape hissed venomously.

"I don't know Professor, maybe you can explain to me why when I stirred the potion three times clock-wise it lit up in flames."

"That's impossible Potter, none of the ingredients used today were flammable in the slightest."

"Then, no, Professor, I cannot explain why my cauldron is on fire."

Harry and Snape both glanced down at Harry's cauldron, which was sporting vivid green flames that were spurting from the rim. The potion inside was being drained and evaporated rapidly, and billows of yellow smoke were bellowing out of the metallic bowl.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Potter," Snape drawled, before waving his wand over the potions contents and vanishing them, flames and all.

"For what, Professor," Harry replied, not expecting the way Snape then exploded in anger.

"For talking back to a teacher," He bellowed, "now be quiet before I make it twenty points and a detention." Harry quieted down, being properly chastised.

"Sorry Professor, it won't happen again," Harry said, honestly apologizing. Snape stared at the boy curiously for several seconds while the whole class held their breath as they waited for the potion master's retaliation.

"Make sure it doesn't," was all Snape said, and despite it being said in a slow, drawling, superior voice, Harry recognized that he was forgiven. Snape stalked away from Harry, his black cloak billowing out from behind him menacingly. As Harry breathed a huge sigh of relief, he heard a chuckle from the back of the badly lit room. He didn't have to turn around to know that it was Ryan making fun of him. Harry just gripped the edges of his wooden table, and squeezed until his veins and joints began throbbing.

"Potter, what colour is your potion," Snape's voice snapped, ringing across the classroom.

"Violet, sir," Ryan replied, his voice holding barely contained anger.

"And what colour is the skele-grow potion supposed to be," Snape hissed.

"Neon green," Ryan mumbled.

"What was that, Potter?" Snape demanded.

"Neon Green, Snivellous," Ryan spat back, equally as furious as Snape.

"Fifty points from Gyrffindor, Potter, and detention."

"For what?"

"For being a burden to your own house mates. Now," Snape flicked his wand and vanished Ryan's contents, "start again. I expect to see a vial on my desk by the end of class."

Harry didn't dare turn around to see Ryan's expression, but he felt relieved that his brother's day was not going well at all. As Snape stalked around the classroom, the moody professor caught Harry's eye, and gave him a short, contrite nod, before quickly moving on to praise his Slytherin's potion work.

Harry, having nothing else to do, opened up his notepad, and began scribbling down the directions to his simple boil-removal potion he had been working on, so he could attempt to perfect it in his own time, without setting it on fire. As he wrote down the instructions, word for word, he wondered if Snape had slammed down on Ryan like that as a form of revenge for Harry. The head nod earlier certainly seemed to suggest so.

Perhaps, despite seeming like the heartless, biased bully he pretended to be, Snape actually had a strange set of morals he followed.

"Everyone, take a moment to look at Malfoy's potion. Note the vivid neon green colour that everyone's potion should result in," Snape glared around the room, obviously disappointed that only four of the sixteen potions were the appropriate colour, and none of them as bright as Malfoy's.

"Excellent work Malfoy, fifty points to Slytherin for being able to follow instructions."

Malfoy, the boy in question, smiled smugly, his spotless, sleek, bleached blond hair glistening in the faint light of the dungeon.

So, Snape may be incredibly and uncontrollably and ridiculously biased, Harry thought, but there were still some morals there, somewhere beneath his dark, shadowed persona.

* * *

"Potter," a strong, confident, but leering voice said from behind Harry. He turned around to face the stranger, but found that he was too late.

"What do you want Malfoy?" Ryan said, practically spitting Malfoy's name out between his lips.

"I don't want anything to do with you, you mud-blood fanatic," Malfoy hissed at Ryan. Ryan's face contorted as his rage began to surface. Malfoy appeared not to notice, or was purposely goading Harry's twin, because he ignored Ryan completely.

"I wanted to talk with the more civilized Potter twin, if he were to give me the honour," Malfoy said, his voice simpering, as he tried to appeal to Harry.

"Bugger off Malfoy, he doesn't want to talk to a git like you," Ron snarled from beside Harry.

"Unlike you Weasel, Harry's a grown boy, and can make decisions for himself," Malfoy said coolly to Ron, throwing the insult back without missing a beat.

"Calm it, Ron," Harry ordered to the red faced Weasley as he grabbed Ron's arm, preventing him from drawing his wand. "Alright Malfoy, I'm listening, what do you want?" Harry asked, not unkindly. What Malfoy wanted was lost to him however, as the sly wizard suddenly twirled around, wand in hand, and deflected a purple jet of light into the ceiling.

"Attacking when your opponent's back is turned, Potter? Pathetic," Malfoy shouted as he deflected two more bursts of light. "You could at least do it right."

"Shut up!" Ryan shouted angrily, swishing his holly wand at two large, brass candlesticks. The metal twisted itself until the candlestick resembled a stick figure wielding dual blades of fire. The stick men rushed at Malfoy, quickly followed by twin jets of light from Ryan's wand. Ron and Harry began backing away from the firefight, scared of being dragged in.

Malfoy swung his wand down from the cobble ceiling, and a rectangular block of stone grew downward from the ceiling, crushing one stick man beneath it, and shielding the Slytherin from the incoming jets of light. The other stick man was still rushing towards Malfoy however, and had one fiery blade raised in preparation to behead him. Malfoy slid one foot backwards into a fighting stance, and shifted his wand to his left hand. Simultaneously, he grabbed a metal hilt that was hanging from the belt buckle of the pants worn within his green outlined robe. The hilt curiously looked like the hilt of a sword, but it was held within a pouch no bigger than Harry's thumb, and therefore it couldn't possibly we a sword.

Harry was therefore incredibly surprised when Malfoy slid a three foot long katana out of the minute sheathe, and with a smooth, powerful upward strike, sliced the animated candle stick in half, neutralizing the transformation. Immediately after, Malfoy sheathed the weapon back in the small pocket strapped to his belt buckle. Draw, strike and sheathe. The attack had happened in moments, but it was just enough time for Harry to comprehend what he had seen. Malfoy carried the katana around in a magically enlarged sheathe so that the long weapon could be carried around with ease. It was an incredibly cunning attack, one that Ryan still had no idea existed, as he was still standing behind the stone rectangle stretching from the ceiling.

The stone barrier in question suddenly burst outwards towards Malfoy, sharp shrapnel swinging towards him dangerously. Malfoy raised his right hand and created a translucent shield between himself and the incoming projectiles. Ryan stood on the other side of the stone, his wand still glowing from the aftereffects of the powerful blasting charm. Keeping the advantage, Ryan transfigured some of the larger stone chunks into stone eagles, which dived around Malfoy's shields and dived towards his pale head. Malfoy raised his wand, and conjured a swirling whirlpool of water above his head to entrap the incoming eagles, and send them crashing and shattering into each other.

He was casting too much magic however, and his translucent shield began flickering weakly. Ryan began sending a barrage of screeching hexes at the shaky shield, and Malfoy was forced to dive to the ground as his defenses collapsed. Ryan tugged his wand skyward, causing the stone floor to begin ripping itself apart into jagged teeth towards Malfoy, who was still lying on the ground. Harry winced as the stone teeth tore through Malfoy's prone form, causing the body to limply bend around the impalements. Ryan looked pale, not expecting to have murdered someone, even if it had been Malfoy, when suddenly-

"You lose, Potter," Malfoy's arrogant, conceited voice rang out from behind Ryan. Ryan swung around to face his opponent, but Malfoy cast an expelling charm, and Ryan's wand went flying across the room. Harry glanced back at Malfoy's impaled body, and gaped at the bent and torn metallic candlestick that was in its place. Malfoy's prone, defenceless body had just been an illusion.

"If you're the hope of the wizarding world, then I daresay we are all ruined," Malfoy drawled at Ryan, who despite being red in anger, had enough rational sense to not attack Malfoy without a weapon. "Now, if you'll be so kind, you can leave your brother and I alone for a chat. That means you too Weasel," and with a swish of his wand, Ryan, his wand, and Ron, were pushed out of the hall by an invisible force.

"Now, Potter," Malfoy refused to say Harry's first name, but the last name was not spoken in disgust like he had with Ryan. Instead it was spoken with a tone of mutual respect. "I have yet to introduce myself. My name is Draco Malfoy, Prince of Hogwarts, and I hereby offer a hand of friendship towards you."


	10. Plants Have Feelings

Ginny was currently having a rather pleasant dream about a certain messy haired, green eyed boy. It wasn't the usual boy she was dreaming of either, but the new one. Harry Potter appeared to be oblivious that a red headed witch was watching him, and went about his activities of slowly removing his clothes. The trademark midnight green leather jacket came off first, swishing his collar length hair around as it slid off his arms and collapsed into a heap on the cold, wet, stone ground.

For the first time, Ginny took interest in her surroundings. She appeared to be underground in some sort of cave. The cave was wet, and the steady sound of dripping consoled her that the cave would continue to be wet. Before she could recall the location however, her attention was dragged back over to the raven haired boy who was now removing his white undershirt. The shirt got stuck around his head and shoulders, and Ginny stared appreciably at his well-defined abs and pronounced chest. He finally tore the shirt over his head and threw it dismissively beside the giant, stone snake statue.

Ginny's eyes trailed across Harry's bare body, following the curve of his shoulders down to his powerful biceps and finally to his forearm beheld a hissing, burning tattoo of a snake and a skull.

It was the dark mark.

Ginny felt herself sliding backwards, trying to further the distance between herself and the Death Eater, but her back collided with solid stone. She glanced behind her and froze in shock as she came face to face with the unforgettable monument to Salazar Slytherin. For the first time, Ginny truly took in her surroundings. The dark, wet stone, the snake statues, the underground statue of the Slytherin founder. Ginny was in the Chamber of Secrets

She tried screaming in fear and horror, but no sound came out. She tried to run away, but found that she was bound and paralyzed, forced to watch Harry Potter, who was now dressed in dark, Death Eater robes shake the hand of another fellow Death Eater. Harry gave the man a friendly smile, who in turn, removed his horrific mask, revealing sleek blond hair and pale skin. Draco Malfoy returned Harry's smile, before pulling something out of his cloak. It was a small black book with barely fifty pages, but Ginny knew that over thousands of messages had been written within, far more than what an ordinary book could contain.

It was Tom Riddle's diary.

Draco handed the diary over to Harry, and Ginny desperately tried to scream, to warn him of what the diary truly was, but no sound came out of her entrapped throat. Harry glanced over at her however, finally seeming to realize that Ginny was watching. He stalked over, the black robes rippling ominously around him as he held the diary open in both hands. Ginny tried to back away. She struggled and fought with her paralyzed limbs, but they remained limp at her side. She looked up at Harry, and with her eyes, pleaded him to go away and to leave her alone. Dull, moulded green eyes drilled mercilessly into her own, and Ginny felt despair.

The pages of the diary began flipping and turning over as if a majestic wind were ruffling the paper, but the dark magic reeking from the book only disgusted Ginny. A black, demonic transparent arm reached out, fingers clasping and craving for the real world. It slowly pulled itself out of the book, until a whole shade of a body was floating eerily above her. Ruby red eyes shone out where the eyes should have been, and tore into Ginny's soul. She found herself screaming as the foul presence entered her mind, her body and her heart. Finally, when she could take no more, she gave up fighting, and as soon as she surrendered, the pain relented. Dark, chuckling echoed inside her mind, scaring her.

"You shall never escape me Ginny," the voice whispered, "ever since you foolishly poured your soul into my diary, you have been mind."

Ginny looked up at Harry, begging him with her eyes once more to help her, to save her, for anything, but he wasn't watching her anymore. Instead he was chatting amiably with Draco, the two as thick as thieves.

"No one can help you, because no one will ever love you. You are tainted, cursed and disgusting."

"You have no other purpose in life but to serve Lord Voldemort."

"No!" Ginny screamed, and this time she felt her vocal muscles vibrating, but the sound was drowned out by the hissing of a fifty foot basilisk as it slithered towards her, cracking and crushing the stone beneath it. She screamed as she stared into its eyes, the eyes that no one had ever seen before and lived to tell the tale. Ginny saw herself in those horrific eyes; a disgusting, dirty and foolish little girl. The eyes continued to glare into her, tearing apart her mental defenses and fraying her emotions. She closed her eyes as she screamed for help, and the darkness encompassed and engulfed her. Fearing the dark and the unknown more than reality, she tore here eyes back open, and found herself staring at a warm, comforting hearth.

"Fire's an incredible thing, isn't it?" A voice said from beside her, and she jumped as she recognized it from her dream. "It can provide warmth, comfort and solace to those who are lost and in need, but if you move just a little closer, reach your hand just a little farther," the man lowered his hand towards the fire slowly until the flames were licking at his bare, unmarked forearm.

"The fire burns you," Harry Potter said stolidly, quickly retracting his hand from the open flames. For the first time, he glanced over at Ginny, and stared at her in worry.

"I'm sorry, I didn't scare you did I? You look white as a ghost," he said, all the while his emerald green eyes burning bright as they encompassed her in concern.

"It's not your fault, don't apologize. It was just a… just a nightmare," Ginny said, while at the same time reassuring herself mentally that it had all just been a dream, albeit a very horrifying and surreal dream.

"I thought that might be it. I walked in, and saw you shivering and mumbling. You were looking a little cold, so I dragged the sofa you were lying on to the fire," he gave her a warm smile, that defrosted her frozen insides. "It woke you up in minutes, so I'd say the fire really helped."

"When I was younger, I used to curl up near the fireplace and sleep there whenever I had a bad dream. I slept too close one time, and Mum woke up to the smell of burning hair. It turns out I'd slept through the whole thing."

Harry began chuckling, and Ginny felt herself attracted to the comforting sound. It reverberated around the walls of the empty Gryffindor common room, and made the room feel alive and safe, despite it only holding two occupants, everyone else obviously being asleep by now. Once Harry finally quieted down, Ginny asked the question on her mind.

"What are you doing up so late?" she asked.

"I was helping Sir-" Harry coughed suddenly, and started speaking again. "I was helping a friend fix up my motorcycle. You know, the one that crashed in the great hall."

"You were with Sirius?" Ginny blurted out. Harry eyed her curiously, but seeing that she didn't seem offended by him hanging out with an escaped convict, he assumed she knew the truth.

"Yeah, he wanted to spend some time with me, as my godfather. It was… nice," Harry finished lamely, his face thoughtful.

"Just nice?" Ginny asked, a joking lilt to her voice. She didn't expect the serious response that was returned.

"I've never had family before, just friends and acquaintances. Talking to someone who is related to me, and knowing that they actually care about me was, well, strange, but it felt kind of nice."

"You could always return to Lily and James you know. I'm sure they'd be ecstatic to have you back. They are your parents after all," Ginny suggested.

"They abandoned me as a child to an orphanage, and chose Ryan over me." Harry's voice wasn't angry, just indifferent, and it was that lack of emotion that made Ginny realize how little Harry cared about his family. "Besides, by now, after a whole day of Hogwarts, they must surely know of my existence, yet they haven't come to see me, or even send a message. They don't care about me Ginny, they don't care about me at all."

Ginny struggled to comprehend what Harry was explaining. Whenever she thought of parents, she thought of her mum and dad, who despite everything Ginny had done in the past, loved her with all their heart. Parents who didn't try to meet up with their long lost child simply didn't exist in Ginny's mind. Parents just weren't those kinds of people.

Yet as Ginny looked at Harry's emotionless face, and wondered what emotions were buried beneath, she realized that those kinds of parents did exist, and that they were much closer to Ginny then she ever realized.

Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a circular Muggle tablet the size of a knut. As Ginny tilted her head she spotted the ring of numbers around the metallic circle, and realized that it was a Muggle watch, but only the watch itself; the leather band appeared to be missing.

"Well, according to my watch which doesn't work anymore," Harry said, frowning a little, "It's probably time for us to head up to our dorms."

Ginny nodded in agreement, but inside, found herself wishing that she could spend more time with the new Potter. Harry stood up from the plush sofa with a groan, and then held out a hand to her. Ginny grasped the hand eagerly, and felt a rush of exhilaration as she was pulled out of the couch. Instead of letting go of her hand, as Ginny had expected, he held onto it for a moment longer.

"Ginny, if you ever want to talk about your nightmares, or just rant a little at the unfairness of everything, feel free to come talk to me." Harry's burning emerald eyes tore into her soul, similar to how the shade had done in her dream, but instead of feeling the unbearable cold, she felt a warm trickle of flames pour through her veins. Chances are the rush of heat was also causing her to blush, and that blush only intensified as Ginny realized her close proximity to Harry.

As her eyes traced his face, she admitted that her dream version of Harry hadn't done justice to the real thing. His uncontrollable midnight hair hung around in spikes around his face, framing his narrow cheekbones. Her eyes landed on his lips, which were almost constantly upturned into a smile of sorts, and felt a strange, longing attraction to them.

She leaned into Harry, his broad shoulders covering her slimmer figure perfectly, and was possibly about to do something quite rash, when she remembered something about her nightmare, which hadn't just been a nightmare, but a reality.

"Harry," Ginny whispered, "Why did you walk into the great hall with Malfoy at dinner?" Harry blinked at her owlishly, surprise showing on his face at Ginny's abrupt question.

"We have agreed upon a tentative friendship for the moment," Harry explained, before stepping away from Ginny. "Honestly, I don't get it with you Gryffindor's. It's as if, just because he's a Slytherin, he's evil and shouldn't be befriended."

Ginny saw Harry eye her curiously, his flickering emerald eyes glancing at her. "Is there a reason I shouldn't trust him?" Harry asked, his voice not accusing, but worried. "Is there something you know about him?"

Ginny desperately wanted to tell Harry that Malfoy was evil. She wanted to tell him that when Malfoy's father had given Ginny the diary, Draco had known exactly what would happen to her.

But she couldn't tell him, or else she'd have to tell him about her taint. She was too scared to tell him that she was defiled and ugly on the inside. She didn't want to have to admit that she had been a foolish child and fallen for a dark wizard.

So she didn't say anything, just shook her head and miserably trundled off to her dorm, begging the tears of frustration to remain at bay until she was wrapped up in her bed.

* * *

James Potter had arrived home after a late night of work. It had fortunately been Auror work, which revolved mainly around paper work, rather than Order work, which revolved around near death experiences.

He closed the front door quietly, hoping that the faint squeaking wouldn't wake up Lily, who would most certainly be asleep by this time of night. He strolled over to the fridge, one of the Muggle appliances Lily had been adamant she couldn't live without, and pulled out a carton of milk. Quickly glancing around the deserted house to make sure his wife wasn't watching James proceeded to take several large gulps of milk directly from the carton. Lily would have made him sleep on the couch for a week if she ever found out about that little habit of his.

As he opened the fridge door to put the milk back in, the yellow, electric light within lit up the kitchen table, and James spotted a folded piece of parchment.

"Lumos," James muttered, and with a flick of his fingers, sent the glowing orb of light floating to the ceiling. The dull light lit up the room enough for James to read the letter. It was sealed with a black paw print, causing James to smile fondly.

"What have you got for me this time, Padfoot," he murmured to himself as he began unfolding the parchment.

_You're never going to believe this Prongs, but we found Harry. Your Harry. He arrived at Hogwart's today, and I'll give you one chance to guess which house he's in. I don't know why Dumbledore didn't tell us earlier, as he obviously knew about Harry's existence a while back, but it's really true. I talked with my godson tonight. Did you know that he got his hands on my old bike? And then he crashed it into the great hall with the whole school watching. Old McGonagall was furious, it was so nostalgic watching her yell at a Potter._

_You have to come see him James. Lily as well, you both have to come to Hogwart's tomorrow._

_You'll be seeing Snuffles tomorrow as well._

The letter was signed with another paw print, but it had become so normal for James that he didn't bat an eye at it. It wouldn't have mattered anyway, as James was shocked beyond belief. He read the letter again, and then a third time, before he sat down and allowed himself to think.

Harry, his Harry was alive. After all the time James had struggled to accept what he had done, and whether Harry had survived as a child, James finally found relief. His child was alive. He now knew that he should never have listened to Dumbledore and given Harry away. He didn't even know why he possibly would have listened to such a suggestion. Glancing back at the letter, he frowned as he reread Dumbledore's involvement, or rather, lack of involvement in informing James. James began thinking that he ought to be worrying about Dumbledore's influence in his life.

But worries could come another day. For now thoughts of Harry were zooming through his head. He sat in stunned silence for a long time, before his rational thoughts kicked in, and he realized what he'd forgotten to do.

"Lily!" James cried as he leapt up the stairs to the second floor three at a time. "Lily, wake up, you'll never believe what's happened!" James shouted as he grasped Sirius's letter firmly in his right hand. He burst through the bedroom door, and found a panicked Lily reaching for her wand. Her luscious red hair was tangled and cascading down her sleepy face that James so adored.

"What's wrong James?" Lily asked, confusing her husband's excitement with panic.

"Everything's fine, Lily, but you'll never believe what Sirius just told me in a letter," James said, practically bouncing in his happiness.

"What did he tell you?" Lily asked, dragging herself out of bed and towards her hyperactive husband.

"He told me that-" James suddenly paused, as if he were trying to remember something. He stopped bouncing on the balls of his feet, and scrunched up his eyes in confusion. He recovered after several moments.

"That's strange, I forgot what it was," James said quietly. He knew that what he had been about to say had been urgent, of the most importance, and the fact that he had forgotten was highly irritating.

"Well why don't you show me Sirius's letter then?" Lily suggested, rubbing James' shoulders reassuringly.

"Of course!" James exclaimed, and held out his right hand.

"James, there's nothing in your hand," Lily said softly, staring at her husband worriedly.

"That's strange," James repeated, staring at his open, empty hand. "What was meant to be in my hand again?" James asked Lily.

"I don't know love, you never told me," Lily replied.

"Huh, that is strange. Well, if I can't remember, it obviously wasn't important," James said, confident in his reasoning.

"What was important?" Lily asked her husband, confused as to what he was talking about.

"Just something that happened at work Lily, don't worry your cute little self over it," James said as he rubbed Lily's red hair affectionately, mussing it up even further. "Let me change and I'll join you in bed," James said and stumbled over to the bathroom. As he stared in the bathroom mirror, he was astounded at the similarities his son Ryan had to him. They looked nearly identical, apart from the eyes. Ryan had vivid green eyes, just like him mother.

Not for the first time in his life, James wondered what the abandoned child would have looked like. Would he have been a mirror image of James, as was Ryan, or would he take after Lily? Thinking of Harry sent a cold rush of sadness through James's thoughts, and he felt his eyes water.

"I wonder how Harry's doing," James murmured to himself sadly in the mirror.

* * *

"I thought the atmosphere was bad yesterday, but this is ridiculous," Harry exclaimed to the only two hospitable Gryffindors at the house table. The Gryffindors, led by Ryan, were sending glares down the table at Harry.

"It's bloody ridiculous that you're being friendly with Malfoy, is what it is," Ron exclaimed through a mouthful of bacon.

"For crying out loud! He's just another kid. You're making it sound like I made a pact with the devil," Harry complained as he stabbed at his food, not particularly hungry.

"Well he's not exactly an angel you know," Neville added, "and it's pretty common knowledge that his father was a Death Eater in the last war."

Harry shivered as he remembered the black, inky masks, with the chalk outlines and blood red irises. For the first time since he shook Malfoy's hand, he began to have second thoughts. He quickly pushed away his preconceptions and assumptions however.

"He can't be that bad. It's not like he's his father just because they're related by blood," Harry argued.

"Whatever," Ron mumbled, continuing to shovel food in his mouth. The red head had been in a bad mood since Malfoy had attacked Ryan yesterday. The two old friends had walked to dinner together, and all seemed well again, until Harry marched in with Malfoy at his side. Ryan had been ready to curse his brother, and if it hadn't been for Ron's involvement, Ryan most certainly would have. Unfortunately, Ron's attempt at protecting Harry, a friend of the snakes, had made him an outcast.

Even Neville seemed disappointed in Harry, causing the raven haired boy to lower his head into his hands. He had agreed to Malfoy's offer of a friendship, and in return Malfoy had agreed to teach him some self defence skills, as Harry's magic potential was obviously horrible. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now…

"What have I done," he groaned.

Transfiguration class didn't improve Harry's mood either. Other than setting enough matchsticks on fire to start a campfire, his transfiguration to a needle had been hopeless. He spent the larger portion of the class eavesdropping on Ryan and Hermione's conversation about becoming an animagus. Harry didn't quite know the specifics of the magic, but it sounded very much like his godfather's ability.

Professor Sprout wouldn't let Harry near any of her precious plants, for after hearing the rumours about the new Potter twin, she feared for the safety of his plants.

"After all," she explained, "if he can set his potion on fire with a stir of a ladle, I fear for what he could do to my plants."

Harry passed the time by watching the students pull catatonic plants from pot plants, trim the roots, pluck off several bulbs from the roots, and then rebury them. Harry watched in amusement as students lined up in front of Professor Sprout for salves for their stinging hands. The plants may have been catatonic, but the razor sharp spikes were a powerful defence mechanism. Only Neville remained unscathed as he smoothly harvested a small bucket of bulbs. Harry found himself smiling proudly as he watched his long lost friend work with a confident smile on his face. There were more than a few students eyeing him jealously.

"He's only good at looking after these stupid vegetables because they're just like his parents," sneered Draco Malfoy near the end of the lesson. Ron paled visibly, and Ryan was reaching for his wand, when the greenhouse glass suddenly began exploding.

Neville stood with his fists clenched tightly, crushing one of the harvested bulbs, sending acidic juices spraying across his robes. As he stood there shaking silently, howling, concussive screams could be hear, shaking the very air, and shattering the glass.

"The mandrakes!" Professor Sprout squealed, and waddled off to calm the plants as she cast a bubblehead charm around her ears to mute the noise.

A venomous tentacular began thrashing it's whip-like, thorn covered stems around itself, smashing several clay pot plants, holding delicate white lilies, which upon impact with the ground began freezing the cobble footpath. Students began slipping on the frozen ground as they ran in a panic, while a row of trees began flowering, releasing traces of pollen through the air, causing hallucinations and drowsiness.

Harry stood in the corner of the greenhouse, as he'd been told to, and wasn't sure whether to be amused or worried. The plants were growing out of control, and it was quite eerie to watch, but the effects seemed harmless enough. A few students had been knocked unconscious by the mandrakes, but Professor Sprout had quickly calmed down the baby plants.

The only one not panicking in the midst of chaos was Neville, who remained shaking, fists clenched, surrounded by a whirlwind of pollen, ice flakes, glass and clay shards. Before anyone could confront him he fled from the room. No one seemed to notice, and no one seemed to care either.

It seemed to Harry, that other than him, no one appeared to make the link between Neville's anger and the flora uprising.

It was after herbology that Harry was scheduled to rendezvous with Malfoy. Harry marched to the far end of the lake, far away from any onlookers, including Hagrid in his little hut. He arrived there what he thought had been early, but found Malfoy already in the clearing, tapping his foot impatiently.

"Honestly Potter, when I said three in the afternoon, I meant three in the afternoon, not fifteen minutes later," Malfoy drawled. His eyes widened in confusion however when Harry pulled his bandless watch from his pocket and glanced at it.

"According to this I'm actually an hour and a half early. Then again, it did stop working a while ago now that I think about it," Harry replied, enjoying taunting the cool headed boy. It was to no avail however, as the Prince of Hogwarts wouldn't rise to the bait.

"What did you say to Neville earlier?" Harry asked Malfoy, and shuddered as the Prince of Hogwarts laughed merrily.

"That his parents are vegetables, which is basically true. They're in a magical hospital, demented and catatonic after Death Eaters tortured them beyond insanity."

"That's not funny Malfoy," Harry said softly, fighting his inner urge to flee right now before he sacrificed his life.

"No, but you know what is?" Malfoy asked, and Harry could tell that he was testing him, but Harry really didn't want to hear the rest. He tried to leave, but found that his legs were pinned to the ground

"What happened to Ginny Weasley six years ago," Malfoy whispered.

"I was wrong about you, Malfoy," Harry snarled at him, feeling his feet heat up as he tried to break out of the entrapping curse.

"And I was wrong about you Potter. I thought that you would hold justifiable rage at those who've wronged you all these years, but you're just as foolish as your brother." Malfoy began walking away from the clearing. "This is the last time we'll meet on friendly terms Potter," Malfoy said, spitting Harry's surname. It held no respect anymore, but the same resentment Malfoy had spoken with to Ryan.

By the time Harry could tear his feet apart from the ground Malfoy had walked far off into the distance, back towards the castle. Harry felt betrayed. He had placed his trust in someone, believing to ignore the rumours that surrounded the individual, as he had so desperately wanted people to do for him. His trust had been betrayed though.

Harry began walking back to the castle, simultaneously forcing himself to calm down. He hadn't been this angry in a long time, and the last time he had been angry. The sounds of screams played through his mind, causing him to shudder and wince. Acrid smoke and incriminating flames flashed around the wooden building, consuming the dry timber and the bare flesh. Sizzling and burning and destroying. Adults screaming. Children crying. Harry just standing there in the center of the deathly chaos.

Harry was so entrapped in his nightmares that he almost walked right by Neville Longbottom. The solitary boy was sitting outside one of the greenhouses, patting the soil around a patch of short plants in the afternoon sunlight. Harry grimaced as he remembered Malfoy's comment, and began to realized how much pain Neville was probably in right now. Harry couldn't empathize, as he hated his own parents, but he didn't wish this kind of pain on anyone.

Harry approached his friend, careful to make lots of noise as he scuffled his way over. Neville never looked up once though, just continued to pat away at the soil.

"Hey Neville," Harry said softly, kneeling beside him.

" 'lo Harry," the boy said miserably. Harry didn't know what to say to cheer him up. He didn't want to admit that he had found out about the state of his parents, but he didn't know how else to confront the situation.

Instead, Harry watched Neville pat the soil carefully and lovingly with his hands. Harry watched in fascination as the leaves of the plant seemed to almost stretch towards the young gardener, as if they were trying to embrace him.

"That's incredible Neville," Harry said, watching him work with the plants.

"What d'ya mean?" Neville asked, still not looking up from his work.

"The way you can get the plants to respond to you like that. It's incredible." The compliment caused Neville to finally look up, and stare at Harry momentarily. He seemed to be judging whether Harry was serious or making fun of him. Finally realizing Harry's true intentions, he gave a small, embarrassed smile.

"Thanks Harry, but it's nothing special. I'm just patting at the soil, it's not like I'm doing anything magical, am I?"

"What are you talking about? Look at how the plant's reacting to you. The leaves are bending towards you, if that's not magic, then I don't know what is."

Neville eyed the plant curiously, but quickly shook his head as he rejected Harry's comment.

"I'm not doing anything magical Harry, trust me."

"I don't trust you Neville, you barely sound like you trust yourself," Harry replied blandly, before glancing around, trying to find a way to convince his friend.

"Here, I've got it Neville. See how this plant has this flower?"

"You mean the one that hasn't bloomed yet?"

"Yeah, that one. I want you to make it bloom." Silence followed Harry's order.

"I'm sorry Harry," Neville finally said, "I know you haven't been in the magical world for a long time, but you simply can't do that. It's impossible, magic can't do everything."

"Bullshit, if magic can make my godfather turn into a dog, magic can make a flower bloom early. Go ahead, try it," Harry urged.

"What do you want me to do!" Neville exclaimed helplessly.

"Just do what you usually do when you work with the plants. Just this time around… communicate with them, or something. Ask them to bloom early for you."

"Harry…" Neville warned, but Harry wouldn't have any of it.

"Just humour me, alright?"

Neville turned back to the plant, and took out his wand, and was about to point it at the unbloomed flower when Harry yanked the stick out of his hands.

"No wands. Just talk to it."

"Harry, I can't do magic without my wand," Neville complained. Harry recalled the greenhouse experience earlier in the day, when Neville's anger had caused the mandrakes to erupt, the venomous tentacular to go into a frenzy, and for the blooming flowers to release their pollen. This kid definitely had self esteem issues.

"Just humour me?" Harry repeated.

Neville sighed, but turned back to the plant, and placed his hands on the soil around it. He closed his eyes, and began muttering under his breath. Harry couldn't hear what he was saying, but he got the gist of it. Neville was asking for permission.

Harry watched in uncontained excitement as the green bud began to split open and white tendrils and petals peeked out of their shell. The colourful insides forced their way out, until the stamen poked their tips out and released a soft fragrance of sweet honey.

"See Harry, I told you it was-" Neville broke off in mid-sentence as he gaped at the beautiful blooming icy white flower. His mouth opened and closed several times like a fish.

"I'm sorry, what were you about to say Neville?" Harry asked teasingly, but there was an undercurrent of awe in his voice.

"That it was possible," Neville whispered softly.

"Like I said, nothing is impossible with magic," Harry replied confidently.

"You're incredibly Harry, you know that?" Neville said, now gaping at Harry instead of the flower.

"Err, what did I do?" he said nervously.

"You just helped me defy all the laws of magic I've learnt about plants, simply because you believed it was possible."

"And?"

"Harry, you don't understand. Witches and Wizards don't view magic the same way you do. They all grew up with it. Even the Muggleborns did, considering age eleven is still pretty young. They take magic for granted, and when they hear about rules and laws, they accept them, simply because everyone else does."

"But you didn't grow up with magic," Neville explained, speaking in a passion.

"You didn't grow up with the prejudiced about magic, and about what's possible and what's not. You think magic is some tool to do absolutely anything you want-"

"Because it is," Harry interrupted.

"There! That attitude right there! You honestly believe that with magic, nothing is impossible."

"With that belief, you could be invincible!"

* * *

**Harry WILL become awesome soon. Just hang around, please please please!**

**Cheers**

**-Council**


	11. When One Serious Joke Wasn't Enough

Albus Dumbledore was currently enjoying a can of Solo fizzy drink. The sweet, sugar lemon taste reminded him strongly of his beloved lemon drops, and after such a tiring opening to Hogwarts, he felt he was allowed to indulge in such Muggle beverages.

Through Albus's slight manipulations, Harry Potter was quickly becoming isolated in the wizarding world. Ryan Potter's disbelief of his brother's existence had helped spark distrust within Harry's own house. The disbelief had been further evolved after Malfoy's involvement. Dumbledore smiled softly to himself as he recalled the conversation with Severus, and how difficult it had been to convince Severus to convince Malfoy to befriend Harry.

Of course, the relationship had been doomed from the beginning. Albus was no fool. Someone as moral as Harry would never have been able to maintain a friendship with someone as sadistic as Malfoy. What had mattered was that the whole school witnessed Harry, brother of the Boy-who-lived, attempting a friendship with the rumoured Prince of Hogwarts. The results had been disastrous. The whole house, regardless of gender, age or heritage had been outraged.

There were still a few loyal followers, but nothing Albus couldn't crush. Lavender Brown's attraction to the boy could easily be misdirected with a simple love potion. Ron Weasley was loyal to the bone, and it would only take a few simple words from Ryan to bring the Weasley back to his original alliance. Neville Longbottom, Albus almost snorted as he thought of the pathetic boy possibly becoming an obstacle. Albus truly felt great sorrow for the child, and he would never have wished such a tragedy on anyone's parents, but it had been sixteen years since the incident! Surely the boy could have matured somewhat in that time.

And then there was Ginny Weasley. Albus remembered probing Ginny's mind at the Burrow, and recalling her unexpected meeting with Harry, but he had also felt her overwhelming feelings for Ryan, the boy who had saved her from a basilisk. Albus didn't fear for Ginny's attraction to waver in the slightest if there were no interruptions, but he had fears that the new Potter may attempt to woo her away from his brother.

To be certain that such a possibility was irrelevant, Dumbledore had prepared a little display for Harry tonight. The sound of stone grating on stone interrupted Albus from his thoughts, and he gave a soft smile as the gargoyles telepathically informed him that Harry had entered the office.

'Just on time,' Albus thought to himself.

The boy stepped into Albus's intricate office, and the Headmaster could feel the tension and strain rolling off of Harry's body. His powerful muscles were clenched in anticipation for any sort of attack while his burning green eyes, so reminiscent of Lily's and Ryan's, flickered around the room, warily eyeing the countless silver trinkets.

"Now Harry, I called you here tonight because the professors informed me you were having difficulties in your practical studies," Albus said, blatantly lying about his real reason for dragging Harry up to his office.

Harry remained silent, but Albus could see the green eyes narrowing in irritation.

"I was wondering if there was anything I could do to aid you in your endeavors. Your education is of my highest concern."

"Unfortunately Headmaster, my education is the least of my concerns," Harry replied coldly. "The only reason I'm attending this school is to allow Willow to receive the education she deserves. Just because I'm attending this prison of yours doesn't mean I have to do well."

"Indeed, it doesn't," Albus replied, genuine sadness in his voice. Hogwarts was a place for learning, and every child should be allowed the chance to thrive in knowledge. Even someone such as Harry.

Remembering the original reason for calling Harry to his office, Albus cast a silent and wandless lure charm on the mirror behind his desk. He only had to wait seconds before the magic overpowered Harry's natural defences, and the boy's curiosity bubbled over.

"Professor, what's that mirror behind your desk?" Harry asked.

"Ah, that, my dear boy, is the Mirror of Erised," Dumbledore said admirably.

Harry stood up, without Albus having to tell him so, and dragged his feet over to the mirror so that he was standing in front of it. The boy's eyes traced the intricate and delicate amethyst and ruby engravings amongst the weaving gold borders. His eyes rested upon the plated letters at the top of the mirror before falling to the reflective, magical surface.

Harry's reflection stared back at him. The well worn leather jacket was wrapped around his arms, and the unzipped center revealed his oil stained, white shirt that clung tight to his chest. His messy raven hair, so similar to that of Ryan's, fell into his eyes, and he unconsciously flicked the strand behind his ear. Albus continued to stare at the reflection, trying to discover something that didn't exist in reality. A family member in the background, a red headed witch hanging on his arm, auras and symbols of power draped across his body.

There was nothing.

"Professor, what does this mirror do?" Harry asked, his voice confused.

"It shows the deepest and most desperate desires of our hearts," Albus replied, the honesty and pain of that simple statement showed in his voice. The things that Albus had seen in that mirror, the heartbreak, every time it shattered his spirit.

"I think it's broken," Harry said plainly, interrupting Albus's humble thoughts.

"Surely there's something you can see. Something that's not of reality," Albus said hurriedly. "A ring on your finger? A wand in your hand?"

"Nothing," Harry said bluntly.

"Harry, do you have any desires, any hopes for the future that you could think of," Dumbledore asked urgently.

"I hope that I have food for breakfast tomorrow. I hope that I get to ride my flying motorcycle again. I hope that gravity doesn't suddenly stop for some strange reason and send us all into outer space," Harry said, listing them off on his fingers.

"But those aren't desires, those are just basic wants. Surely there's something you desire! Anything!" Dumbledore continued, his voice rising in power as he grew more confused.

"What is it you want from me Professor?" Harry snapped, irritation seeping into his voice.

Albus suddenly calmed down. He had done this test to ensure that Harry didn't have a desire to steal Ginny Weasley from Ryan, but the test had showed so much more. Harry didn't have any desires at all in his life. It was almost as if he had no reason to live.

Dumbledore couldn't help but smile gleefully. His plan was falling together far more majestically than he ever could have imagined.

"Nothing, my dear boy, Nothing. I was just ever so curious as to the mirror's properties." Dumbledore, realizing he was standing up now due to the earlier excitement, settled himself back into his plush purple chair.

"I think that is all for tonight Mr. Potter, you are excused," Dumbledore said, and the addressed boy left the room none too quickly, as the wizened blue eyes followed the young wizard to the exit.

Eyes that watched Harry leave like the sheep to the slaughter.

* * *

Harry stormed through Hogwart's corridors, absolutely livid. Dumbledore infuriated him to no end. Since he had discovered at the orphanage that he was a wizard through Neville's Hogwart's letter he had been furious at not being accepted into the wizarding world. Technically, Harry should therefore be overjoyed that Dumbledore had introduced him to the wizarding world.

But Harry was furious. Dumbledore had dragged Harry in without an explanation or an apology, dumped him in a school where the students didn't respect him, and forced him to attend classes which he didn't learn from. Dumbledore was obviously playing some sort of game, and it had to do with Harry, his brother, and the return of Voldemort. Harry just couldn't figure out the bloody connection though.

Too agitated to return to the dorm and sleep, Harry snuck out of the castle, past the floating, sleeping forms of various ghosts, and worried that opening the giant, wooden entrance hall doors would trigger a magical alarm, exited through an open window in a side corridor. Harry walked towards the edge of the forest, his shoes crunching the fresh, crisp grass beneath his feet. He got to the clearing where he had met Sirius the night before. The dog-man wasn't there at the moment, but the heaped remains of the motorcycle were.

Harry frowned at the pile. Sirius had been hard at work last night trying to fix the destroyed machine, but he had sadly informed Harry that it would take a couple of weeks to repair the charms that had been shattered along with the physical shell of the bike. Despite everything Harry knew about motorcycles, his ability to repair a magical one was highly limited.

"Did you know?" Sirius said suddenly from behind, and Harry whipped around to see his godfather grinning at him, "I ran away from home on that bike."

"You ran away from home?" Harry asked, relishing in learning more about his godfather.

"Damn right I did," Sirius said with a feral grin on his face, "went to go live with your father and his parents. The nicest family there ever was."

"Yes, well until my father finally decides to acknowledge my existence, I wouldn't quite classify him as the nicest," Harry said, not angry, just tired. Sirius, on the other hand looked both furious and confused.

"What do you mean Harry? Have your parents still not visited you?"

"Visited me? Sirius, they haven't even sent me a letter yet," Harry explained. Sirius glanced away from Harry, hurt and betrayal evident in his gray eyes.

"That damn bastard, I was sure he'd come visit," Sirius softly murmured to himself, but Harry could still hear the words. There was an awkward silence that Harry tried to fill, but just couldn't find anything to fill the space. The two of them eventually fell to staring at the broken, mangled metal machinery that had once been a beautiful flying motorcycle. Harry snorted as he found himself comparing the broken bike to his family.

"Want to see if we can fix it?" Harry suggested.

"She has a name you know," Sirius reprimanded, emphasizing the gender.

"Oh, is that so?" Harry asked mockingly.

"Kahlan, my first and only true love," Sirius said, theatrically sighing at the stars.

"I should've known you were a mechanophile," Harry said, eliciting a barking laugh from the ex-convict.

"I'll have you know, kiddo, that Kahlan the motorcycle was named after Kahlan the woman," Sirius said, and Harry could tell that despite the joking tone, Sirius was, for once, uncharacteristically serious.

"So you actually have a girl out there somewhere then?"

Sirius stared out at the stars, his eyes glassing over as memories played through his mind. A smile played upon his face, and for the first time since Harry had met Sirius, his godfather truly looked alive. Hope was kindled in his eyes, and his shoulders were drawn back proudly, an affirmation to the world that he would not be bowled over.

"She was beautiful. The girl, not the motorbike. She had this wondrous, straight raven hair that would cascade down her face, and fall into her eyes." Sirius's hands twitched involuntarily, as if he were restraining himself from stroking a strand of raven hair back behind a pale ear.

"So, how'd you meet her then?" Harry asked, lounging on the ground, preparing himself for a story.

"It was the year after I graduated from Hogwarts. I had just recently joined an order of people with the intent to stop Voldemort, who had been terrorizing Britain. I was off duty, just having finished a raid, and therefore, of course, I was…

* * *

"Give me another drink, Tom!" Sirius shouted at the bartender, who smiled at his regular customer, before sliding over the remainder of the bottle of firewhiskey.

"It's on the house Mr. Black," Tom said, clapping Sirius on the shoulder before continuing with his business. Sirius felt that the day could not be going any better, until a raven haired girl entered the bar. Her silky straight hair fell down to her chest, accentuating her respectable assets. Deciding to test his night's immaculate luck, he swaggered over to the hot babe.

"You're so stunning you stupefied me when you walked through that door," Sirius said to the woman, flashing her his charismatic smile. This one would work, he thought to himself, it always worked.

"You can't be serious," the girl groaned, not looking up from the table.

"Oh, but I am," Sirius replied, his smile still on his face. The woman finally looked up at him, and Sirius felt his world fall apart around him as he stared into those sky blue eyes that shone with intelligence and wit. Sirius had been about to continue with his witty response about his name, but the pick up line fell apart in his mouth.

"I'm Sirius,"

"I know, you already said that,"

"No, I meant that my name is Sirius,"

"And it might be a serious name, if you could finally grow a pair and tell me,"

"Sirius Black,"

"Now aren't we the racist one,"

Sirius was tongue twisted, he could only stare at the girl as she strolled away from her table and moved to another one, sipping from a bottle of firewhiskey as she moved along.

"Damn," Sirius whispered to himself, and reached over to take a swig of his firewhiskey, but his hands found thin air.

"Damn," Sirius whispered again, this time with even more awe. Never being one to give up, Sirius strode over to the blue haired lass once again.

"I have a feeling you have something of mine," Sirius said as charmingly as he could.

"Seriously?" Was all she replied with, before moving off to a third table.

"Third time's the charm," Sirius muttered to himself, pushed his shaggy hair back behind his ears, and approached her once more.

"Your voice is truly angelic, but I wish I had a name to link it with," Sirius said, and he honestly thought that, as the words came out of his mouth, that he had a chance.

"You're unbearable, you know that?"

"Actually, I'm Sirius,"

The lady huffed, pushed the bottle into Sirius's chest, and began stalking out of the bar.

"If you ever want a good ride, just give me a shout!" Sirius called to her as she left the leaky cauldron. She responded with a silent, middle finger. Shrugging to himself at her response, he raised his returned bottle of firewhiskey to his lips, but frowned when no liquid came out.

"She drank it all!" Sirius exclaimed incredulously. He stood confused for a moment, pondering the bottle for a few moments before coming to a conclusion.

"That's my kind of girl."

Never one to be abandon something he wanted, Sirius ran out of the bar, eager to try his luck for a fourth time, but he was disappointed to find the streets of London devoid of any raven haired beauties. Disappointed, but determined he'd be able to try again another day, Sirius walked over to his bike, revved the engine, and prepared to fly home.

Until he heard a shout.

It wasn't a normal shout either, but a shout mixed with fear and worry. More importantly, it was a very feminine shout that Sirius recognized none too easily. It was at this point in his heroic rescue that Sirius would have muttered the name of the girl he was going to save under his breath, but failing to know her name, he had to compromise.

"Hot babe," he whispered to himself, before revving the motorcycle one more time, and riding towards the source of the scream. He turned a sharp corner at the nearest alley, and swore loudly as he analyzed the situation. Four Death Eater's had circled Sirius's girl, and had their wands pointed at her, curses flying out threateningly. She in turn had her own wand out, but could do little but maintain a magical shield as she held her back to the wall.

Blind fury rose up in Sirius's chest, and the addicting adrenaline pumped through his blood, fueling him to do something stupid. Fueling him to save her life. Sirius roared down the alley, swerving his motorcycle around the lady, distracting and stunning the Death Eaters.

"Cavalierium!" Sirius bellowed, swinging his wand at the ground, and a semi circle of spears, swords and javelins erupted from the ground, pointing out dangerously at the opposing wizards. Using the weapons as a physical shield, he squeezed the brakes of the bike, screeching to a stop beside the paralyzed, blue eyed woman.

"You shouted, here's my ride," Sirius said, his cheeky smile back on his face, never missing a beat.

"So you were serious," she replied, a smirk on her face as she clambered onto the back of the bike. She wrapped her hands firmly around Sirius's waist and pressed her body firmly to his.

"That's my name, don't wear it out," he replied, before kicking the bike into movement. A Death Eater blasted the medieval weapons out of the way, and Sirius used the gap in the impromptu shield to make his escape. One cloaked wizard raised his wand in retaliation, but Sirius cast a simple summoning charm, and a jousting lance crashed into the man's back, piercing his heart, and killing him instantly.

The motorbike began rumbling down the alley and was chased by several colourful but deadly jinxes that Sirius's tightly clinging passenger deflected with her wand. The bike roared around the corner, and Sirius throttling the accelerator to gain distance between himself and the pursuers. He swore violently when he had to swerve out of the way of incoming spells as the remaining three Death Eaters apparated in front of him. He took a sharp turn down another alley, but once again, the Death Eaters apparated to his new position.

"Avada Kedavra," one wizard bellowed, and a sizzling green light left his wand.

"Engorgio!" Sirius shouted at a metal trash can, casting the simple charm wandlessly. The trashcan expanded to triple its size, exploding when the enlarged shield collided with the killing curse.

Sirius took another sharp turn, and the back wheel slammed into the edge of a building, causing the girl behind him to shout in shock as the bike jumped violently. The alleyway was just big enough to allow the bike to slide through, but Sirius's passenger had realized, along with the Death Eaters, that the alley was a dead end.

"We have to turn and fight!" The lady yelled in his ear, but Sirius simply laughed cheerfully, seemingly oblivious to the horrible situation.

"But I haven't finished showing off my ride yet," he exclaimed, before pulling the giant mechanical bike off the ground, and rolling into the air. The apparating Death Eaters jumped to the nearest rooftop, but even they could not follow the bike into the midnight, cloudy sky.

"This is incredible," the woman screamed into Sirius's ears, and despite his ringing ear drums, Sirius couldn't help but smile.

"It's a beauty, isn't it? I only just finished the flying manipulations last week. Thank Merlin I did, eh?"

"You made this bike yourself?" she exclaimed in surprise.

"Who do you think I am?" Sirius replied.

"Seriously handsome," she said, and if Sirius could have turned around at that point, he was certain she would have been sporting a mischievous grin identical to his.

"And what about you?"

"Kahlen. Kahlen Joken," she replied.

"You've got to be kidding me," Sirius groaned.

"Nope, just joking." Sirius let loose a cackle of laughter

"And what about this beast," Kahlan continued, patting the side of the flying bike. "What's his name?"

"First, it's a she," Sirius admonished, "and second of all it's…" Sirius only had to think for a moment, "Kahlan. It's name is Kahlan."

"You've got to be serious," she deadpanned

"Only if you're joking," he replied, and when she laughed along with him, Sirius couldn't help but believe that he'd just found the perfect girl.

* * *

Harry and Sirius were lying on the grass, their heads angled towards the sky. Sirius was silent as he finished his story, and Harry allowed him the privilege of privacy.

"She was the only girl in the world who could keep up with me." Sirius finally said, breaking the silence. "The only girl who could keep me level headed, but the only one who would play along with me."

"Where is she Sirius?" Harry asked, an almost urgent tone in his voice, "Where is Kahlan." Sirius continued to stare up at the stars, lost in his thoughts. Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned towards Harry.

"Do you know my story Harry? Do you know the reason I was once a convicted criminal?" Sirius asked softly, his gray eyes transforming back into their hopeless, hollow cavern. Harry shook his head slowly, not trusting his voice.

"It happened the day Voldemort attacked your parents, but it truly started the day you were born…"

James and Lily had just given birth to twins. They were so happy, we were so happy. James, Lily, Remus, Peter and I. Then Dumbledore swept into our lives. His big billowing purple robes blew through the entrance to the ward at St. Mungo's. He told us of a prophecy, a prophecy so terrible it feared us all into following any of Dumbledore's suggestions. The Prophecy spoke of the child born on the last day of July, and how neither Voldemort nor the child can live while the other survives. It was horrible; none of us had ever realized such despair.

Listening to Dumbledore, the Potters went into hiding through the Fidelious charm. James and Lily initially asked me to be the secret keeper. I was so immensely proud. My best friend, my brother, trusted me with not just his life, but with the life of his wife and children. I said yes, and everyone that day heard me say yes.

And then when I thought I couldn't feel any prouder, James made me your godfather. I remember tears falling down my face. I'd never felt so alive in my life before. Looking at my godson however, I felt worry. Voldemort would have been certain to target me, so with permission from James and Lily, I changed the secret keeper to Peter. Peter the bloody rat.

Six months later the attack happened. Peter had betrayed us. Betrayed us all. That night I was out at a dinner with Kahlan in Hogsmead. We rarely were able to meet, so we were spending the time preciously, but then Hagrid ran into me. I heard of the attack form Hagrid and I was furious. I knew immediately who was to blame and I was going to murder the filthy rat. Kahlan cried that night, begged me not to leave, that nothing good could come from revenge.

For the first time during Sirius's story, his penetrating gray eyes finally met Harry's.

"I didn't listen to her Harry, I didn't listen to her."

"I chased down Peter, tried to get his confession, but he blew up half the street and thirteen Muggles. He transformed into a rat, cut off his toe, and ran into the sewers. When the Aurors arrived, they presumed that I'd murdered Peter, and when the news reached the Potters, they assumed that I had tortured the rat so he would reveal the Fidelious location to Voldemort."

"It was just as Kahlan said. Nothing good came from me hunting down Peter." Sirius fell silent as he pondered his mistake. Eventually he spoke up once more.

"The rest of the story everyone knows. I broke out of Azkaban after seeing a picture of Wormtail in the papers. Broke into Hogwarts, found the filthy little traitor, ran into Ryan, Remus turned into a werewolf, the dementor's went haywire, and finally Ryan saved everyone."

"Listen to me Harry. If there's one thing I want to teach you as a godfather, it's this. When you find the girl who's perfect for you, always listen to her, and never ignore her. Women are smarter than us men, it's a proven fact."

"Most importantly of all, never leave her, ever!"

"That's if I ever find someone like your Kahlan."

"I know you will kiddo," Sirius said, and his voice was so confident Harry couldn't help but trust him.

* * *

James Potter was sitting in his favourite armchair in the house, but the leather chair was doing little to comfort James as he leant forward, his head buried in his arms. He had come home from work with the most terrible headache. It was tearing at his mind, and even Lily's homemade respite potion did little to stop the pain.

"Are you sure you're alright sweetheart?" Lily asked her husband, crouching in front of him and stroking his hair comfortably. James was never one to show pain to others, so he simply smiled reassuringly at his wife, before burying his head in a nearby book. Lily shook her head disapprovingly, knowing her husband's antics far too well to see the pain he was in.

He was trying to read the book upside down.

"I'll make you something stronger," Lily said to James, causing him to blush at being found out, before she disappeared to her potions laboratory. Not long after she left, the dying fireplace in the living room roared to life as James's best friend flooed through.

The headache temporarily forgotten, James launched himself out of the chair and towards his brother.

"Siriu-" James shouted, only to be cut off when Sirius's fist collided with James's face.

"What was that for?" James exclaimed, clutching his face. He swerved backwards as another fist came swinging towards him, hissing past his cheek.

"Now you've got it coming," James roared, before launching an attack of his own. He swung a punch at Sirius' gut, who stumbled backwards from the force, and then, without missing a step, James tackled Sirius. Sirius managed to stay upright however, and used James's momentum against him, swinging him against the brick fireplace.

His Auror reflexes kicking in, James grabbed Sirius' open right arm, and yanked it skywards, causing the convict to howl in pain as he was forced to bow toward the ground. James was so intent on holding the struggling arm that he missed the swinging leg that wrapped around his ankles and tripped to the carpet.

Sirius leant down, grabbed James' by his jacket, and swung him upwards and crashing into a wooden book case. The wood cracked, and several heavy magical manuscripts came raining down. James' body bounced off the wood, and the impact caused the glasses to slide off his face and fall to the carpeted floor.

"Time out!" James shouted, "I lost my glasses."

Sirius let go of his nearsighted friend who was clambering around, unsuccessfully, searching for his glasses. Sirius sighed, knelt down and picked up the fragile rimmed glass moments before James's foot was about to crush them.

"Here you are Prongs," Sirius said, handing the glasses over, wiping blood off his chin that was dripping from his split lip.

"Thanks Padfoot," James replied, casting a cooling charm on his swelling cheek. The two injured boys collapsed to the ground together, and sat around the coughing fire, reminding them both of their times at the Gryffindor common room.

"Now, what was all that about Padfoot?" James asked his friend, not a single note of anger in his voice. "You've never punched me before unless there's been a good reason for it."

"Why didn't you go visit Harry? He's devastated that you didn't show up," Sirius explained. He wasn't angry, he could never remain angry with his best friend, but he was disappointed, and it showed in his voice. James, on the other hand, looked rather confused.

"Who's Harry?" James asked his friend. Sirius stared at him incredulously.

"Harry Potter. Your son." Sirius said bluntly, stressing every word. Before James could respond, he suddenly clasped his head in a burst of pain. He groaned as his headache grew in intensity. When he finally looked back up, he saw that Sirius was staring at him worryingly.

"Are you alright Prongs?" he asked concerned.

"Yeah, it's just a headache, work was pretty difficult today." James paused for a moment, as if he were trying to recall something. "What were we talking about again Padfoot?" This time Sirius was staring at his brother incredibly concerned.

"I was talking about Harry Potter," Sirius said slowly, and as soon as Harry's name was mentioned, a wave of pain flickered through James' skull, piercing his thoughts.

"Who were we talking about?" James asked once the burst of pain left. Sirius's gaunt, pale face grew even paler as he seemed to be trying to comprehend something.

"James, do you trust me?" Sirius asked, not necessarily liking what he was about to do.

"Always," James replied as Sirius began drawing his wand.

"Then don't resist for a moment," Sirius said, before casting a complex series of diagnostic charms around James. The results did not please Sirius in the slightest, but to confirm the extent of the damage, he had to enter his brother's mind.

"Legilimens," Sirius whispered, and once he had slid into James's undefended mind, he began implanting specific thoughts about Harry Potter. He pulled out of the mind seconds later, not wanting to intrude in his best friend's mind for a second longer than necessary. When he pulled out, he was greeted to a painful scene to watch. James was withering on the ground, his hands clasped around his head, screaming in silence as his own mind began attacking itself, tearing apart the foreign thoughts Sirius had implanted.

"What's happening to me Sirius," James panted.

"There's a bloody confounding charm imbedded within your mind. It's linked to a memory loss charm that removes all instances of events related to the mention of Ha-" Sirius caught himself before the charm activated. "To the mention of a keyword."

"That's why I've got this freaking headache then," James groaned, "It's been getting worse at work. Everyone at work must be talking about it if it's this bad. Can you trace the magical signature?"

"I already did," Sirius said, his voice cold. "It's Albus Dumbledore." James's eyes darkened.

"I knew it. This has something to do with my child, doesn't it Sirius. I never should have trusted Albus with Harry's life-"

James speech broke off as pain lanced through his mind. He tried to fight the pain, and think coherently, but the pain was too much, and he was knocked unconscious. Sirius, forgoing magic, picked up the limp body of James and carried him up to his bed.

"Albus is going to pay for this," Sirius snarled under his breath as he gently carried his injured brother up the stairs so he could rest, and dream a dream devoid of Harry Potter.


	12. Rational Insanity

"Ron!" Ryan Potter called out from the breakfast table, "come sit with us," he said, gesturing to the empty space beside him and opposite Hermione. Ron stared at the empty seat suspiciously, but his faith in his old friend won out and he sat down.

"Listen," Ryan said once Ron had filled up his plate with food, "I want to apologize for my behaviour towards you the past few days. I was a bit rash, and my brother's thrown my emotions off pretty badly, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

Ron stared at Ryan calculatedly. He had expected an apology to appear at some point. They'd always gotten into fights in the past, and it was always only a matter of time until the two forgave and forgot. Ron hadn't expected the apology to be so soon though. Ron glanced at Hermione, who was staring at him expectantly, and finally made his decision.

"Friends?" Ron asked, holding out his hand.

"Friends," Ryan agreed, smiling brightly and grasping Ron's outstretched hand. Feeling that everything was finally resolved, Ron turned back to his patiently waiting meal. Halfway through his pile of toast and eggs Neville walked up nervously to the trio.

"H-hey Ron," Neville stammered, "You don't happen to know where Harry is, do you?"

"Nah, I don't Neville, sorry," Ron said, struggling to swallow the remains of the food in his mouth.

"Oh, that's ok then," Neville said, but it was clear from his voice that it wasn't. "It's just that I always sit with him, but he's not here today," the lonely boy explained before walking back to his seat.

"Hey Neville, we have Transfiguration next, you got everything?" Ron called to the forgetful boy. Neville paled as he remembered something, and tore out of the great hall. The student's in the great hall chuckled at his exit. In particular, Ryan seemed to be laughing quite loudly.

"He's pathetic, isn't he," Ryan commented, wiping the corner of his eyes.

"He is a little," Hermione agreed, "He has the lowest grade in almost every single subject. It's a little sad if you ask me."

"Well obviously you haven't seen him in Herbology then," Ron snapped back at Hermione, not appreciating them badmouthing his new friend. Ron had to admit to himself that last school year he would have been laughing along with Ryan and Hermione, but it was different now that he had met Neville. He certainly wasn't as stupid as everyone believed.

"Calm down Ron, we were only joking," Ryan said, clapping Ron on the shoulder reassuringly, causing Ron to cringe away. "I don't get why you hang out with him though," Ryan added. Ron was about to snap back, but Hermione beat him to it.

"I think it's quite noble actually. You're trying to be friends with someone with a disability, it's quite a charitable action," Hermione said, flashing Ron one of her toothy smiles that had once caused his brain to melt and his heart to pound.

Now it left Ron with a sickening feeling in his stomach, and it most certainly had nothing to do with his breakfast. Ron ground his teeth instead of shouting back at her. He remembered that he had only just reconciled his differences with his friends, and he didn't want to do anything stupid to ruin that.

So Ron simply continued to stuff food in his mouth, despite the fact that he was no longer hungry. Hermione was looking rather pleased with herself, as she believed she had won the argument by complimenting Ron. Ron couldn't feel any worse. Ron suddenly realized that, right now, he would rather sit with Harry rather than with Ryan.

"You wouldn't happen to know where Harry is, do you Ryan?" Ron asked.

"Me? No!" Ryan said, acting shocked, confused and perhaps a little too innocent, "I wouldn't worry about my brother though. He's probably just… hanging around somewhere," Ryan said, finishing the sentence with a smirk on his face.

Ron stared at his friend suspiciously, but once again, Ron's loyalty to his old friends won out, and he forced himself to believe Ryan.

"Fine, if you say so," Ron said. He caught Hermione's eye, and she battered her lashes at him. Ron just stared back at his plate of food, disgusted and confused.

Doubting his best friend, feeling turned off by his crush, preferring to sit with people he had only known for two days… What was happening to him?

Ron stared morosely across the hall, and caught the eye of Padma at the Ravenclaw. She flashed him a pretty smile that caused the infamous Weasley blush to rise. He returned a grin nonetheless, and returned to his meal, suddenly feeling hungry again.

What the hell was happening to him?

* * *

Harry groaned as his muscles began to ache. It felt like his arms were being wrenched out of their sockets, which was probably a pretty good description to what was actually happening. His arms were dangling above his head, a glob of sticky goo chaining them together and attaching them to the ceiling above the portrait of the fat lady. He was dangling three meters above the ground, and had been for the past hour and the pain was becoming tremendous.

Harry tried yanking his arms out of the goo, but it did nothing except to cause his body to start swinging back and forth.

"Bloody hell, Willow's going to tear me to pieces," Harry murmured to himself, chuckling slightly as he pictured the younger girl's reaction when Harry didn't show up to breakfast. Harry's stomach rumbled at that point, and he stopped laughing, suddenly finding his little joke not so funny anymore.

"Bloody Potter," Harry muttered, and when no one responded, he cursed the name again slightly louder.

"Screw you Potter!" Harry bellowed at the top of his voice, the sound bouncing off walls and corridors as the echoes replayed in Harry's ears. He didn't expect anyone to hear, everyone would still be at breakfast at this point, so he was surprised to receive a response.

"Is that you Harry?" A timid voice said, and Harry's head snapped down to the ground to see the familiar face of Neville.

"Neville!" Harry exclaimed, never having been so happy to see the boy in his life, "I'm so glad you're here. Let me down will you?"

"What are you doing up there?" Neville asked.

"My bloody brother thought it'd be a funny prank to hang me up here. It's pretty damn funny, isn't it?" Harry snarled.

"Not really," Neville said softly. "Why hasn't anyone let you down yet?"

"Oh, you know kids when it's time for breakfast. They all just ran out of the common room, ignoring everything except for the sounds of their stomach. Now, stop talking and let me down. My arms are bloody killing me!"

"A-are you sure you want me to do that Harry? You've seen what happens when I cast spells," the unconfident boy asked.

"At least you don't set everything on fire. I don't care what the side effects are, just wave your wand."

"Well, that's the thing, I forgot my wand in the dormitory and I was going to go get it-"

"Come on Neville! I'm being tortured here! Wave your hand if you don't have a wand, just do something!" Harry had started shouting, the pain overriding his usually well-contained emotions. Neville was both shocked and frightened by the outburst, and without really thinking about the fact that he had yet to practice wandless charms, he swung his hand towards Harry.

"Finite Incantatem," Neville squeaked, and watched in fascination as Harry collapsed to the ground. Harry rolled into a ball when he hit the ground, as three meters was quite the fall, and almost bowled Neville over.

"Sorry about that," Harry said as he picked himself up. He tried to fix his jacket up, but as he moved his arms, his shoulder began stinging and he hissed in pain.

"I'm going to murder my brother," Harry hissed along with the pain.

"Harry," Neville said rather strangely, his voice high pitched and disbelieving. "How did I do that?"

"Do what," Harry said, facing his rescuer.

"Cast a wandless charm," Neville explained, not quite believing that he had really done just that.

"Dunno, it's not impossible though. I watched Shacklebolt do wandless magic a while ago," Harry said in an offhand voice.

"But Harry, only really powerful wizards can do wandless magic. I can't even do that Finite Incantatem charm with my wand. It should be impossible for me to do it without one."

"Maybe your wands stuffed then," Harry said, not paying attention anymore. He was trying to figure out where his expanded back pack was. Ryan had banished it somewhere in the hallway, but Harry couldn't figure out where.

"My wand's stuffed?" Neville asked, still in a daydream phase.

"Probably, it makes the most sense," Harry said, before kicking a suit of armour in frustration. "Where the hell is my bag?" He shouted, and then suddenly, in a burst of inspiration, Harry turned to Neville.

"I've got it, two birds with one stone. Wandlessly summon my backpack for me. I get my bag, you discover your super wizard abilities, or whatever it is," Harry said to Neville confidently.

"I really don't think that'll work-"

"Just do it," Harry interrupted, unknowingly infringing copyright of a famous company. Neville sighed in defeat, but raised his hands in an attempt.

"Accio Harry's backpack," Neville cried. Nothing happened.

"See Harry, I told you it was-" Neville's self-defeated speech was interrupted when Harry's small, but immensely heavy and expanded backpack smashed into his stomach.

"Oof," Neville grunted as he fell to the ground.

"Awesome, thanks for that Neville, Ryan must've banished it to the other side of the castle if it took that long to summon. The bloody git, he probably expected me to never find it again," Harry ranted under his breath.

"Harry, you saw that, right?" Neville asked. "I actually summoned that bag, I didn't just imagine that right?"

"Sorry Neville," Harry said, and the boy's hopeful face collapsed, "but your wand is most definitely stuffed, cos that summoning charm was wicked." Harry laughed as Neville's face became indignant at being tricked.

"Bastard," Neville said, punching Harry in the arm playfully.

Harry just smiled proudly. That was the first time he'd ever heard Neville swear.

* * *

Despite the discovery of Neville's newfound power, Harry was still in a god-awful mood. His arms ached all over. The simple act of walking caused shards of searing pain to tear through his shoulders. Transfiguration class was only making the whole experience more unbearable. Every time he waved his stupid wand his shoulders would burn in pain. It was no surprise to Harry therefore that his matchsticks were not just burning anymore, but exploding in flames.

He even tried taking a book from Neville's shelf and tried the transfiguration wandlessly but it was to no avail. Neville, on the other hand, appeared to be having the time of his life. He told Harry that he didn't want to attract any attention all of a sudden by flaunting wandless abilities, so he was holding his wand in his right hand, pretending to wave it around, but casting with his left hand. McGonagall hadn't believed Neville when he showed her his animated chess piece, and the look of surprise on her face was so amusing that Harry found himself coughing loudly to cover his chuckles.

Surprisingly, the first person in the class to have completed the animation had been Ron. When quizzed on by McGonagall, he simple claimed that he felt comfortable working with chess pieces, as they felt familiar. He was currently watching a black pawn and a white bishop clash weapons with one another, chipping stone shards off one another. The white bishop emerged victorious after beheading the pawn with a swinging, roundhouse strike with its stone claymore.

"That's incredible Ron!" Hermione gushed, who happened to be Ron's partner this lesson. Harry glared at the girl as he heard the undertones of jealously as she spoke. Ron appeared similarly discomforted however, and he subtly flicked his wand, and sent the white bishop over to demolish Hermione's flailing horse. Hermione snapped at Ron for destroying her piece, but he simply shrugged his shoulders and said that it wasn't his fault, and that the piece was acting on its own.

Harry noticed with a smile that the rebellious piece was stealthily advancing upon Ryan's King.

Harry had been only too happy to leave the classroom when class was dismissed. He obviously wasn't learning anything; the teachers weren't even teaching him, just telling him the name of a charm, the movement of the wand, and giving him permission to go crazy. He'd rather be with Sirius fixing up the bike. At least he'd be doing something useful.

He ran down to the great hall for lunch, his missed breakfast taking a toll on his patience. He therefore ran right into Draco, who sneered at him, but not before banishing Harry down a corridor. Harry's frustration only grew when he tried to sit at the Gryffindor table, and found that no one, Neville was currently off playing with his new abilities, wanted to sit with him, or have anything to do with him for that matter. Deciding he'd rather sit where he was more wanted, he moved over to the Ravenclaw table.

"Budge over midget," Harry said to Willow, who poked her tongue out at him, but squished together with her friends to make space. Harry tried to grab a sandwich from one of the platters, but a hand around his wrist quickly stopped him.

"What are you playing at Potter? Go back to your own table," A Ravenclaw Prefect said.

"I just want to sit with Willow," Harry explained, trying to come to a peaceful resolution.

"I don't care Potter, and as far as I can tell, you're not related," Harry didn't take great offence to this, as he knew quite clearly that he wasn't related to Willow. In fact, he didn't technically have any responsibly over Willow. He was surprised however to see Willow fight back.

"We don't have to be related by blood to be siblings," Willow shouted at the prefect.

"Five points from Ravenclaw for shouting at another student. Don't you dare make me take any more from my own house," the prefect ironically shouted back.

"And ten points to Ravenclaw for standing up for what is right," another prefect said, and Harry smiled as Padma began walking towards him.

"Thanks for that Padma, but it's clear I'm not wanted here," Harry said, and started to leave, but not before grabbing a handful of sandwiches.

"No Harry, stay. Don't listen to him, you're allowed to eat with us," Padma begged.

"Maybe another time," Harry suggested, "Sorry Willow," he said to the heartbroken girl. The girl jumped off her seat, ran to Harry's arms and buried herself in a hug. Harry pried her off, gave her a kiss on the forehead, and set her back down on the seat.

"I'll see you at dinner," Harry promised, and left the great hall before anyone else could stop him. As soon as the giant wooden doors had slammed shut behind him he let loose a torrent of curses. He hated Hogwart's. He hated that he didn't fit in.

He had Defence Against the Dark Art's next, with Remus Lupin, the man who was Ryan's godfather. Harry's eyes glazed over as he tried to suppress his anger. He had never met the man before, but considering the way Harry's parents had treated him, Harry had no faith that he would be enjoying the class.

There was only one other wizard in the castle whose anger currently rivaled Harry's…

* * *

Padfoot was on a warpath towards Albus's office. He strode with as much self-righteous anger and dignity as a four legged animal could muster through the Hogwart's corridors. He would have preferred to walk into Hogwart's with a wand blazing, curses tumbling from his mouth, but he was still a wanted convict, and some precautions were necessary.

Padfoot approached the entrance to the headmaster's office, and barked at the gargoyle until the staircase unraveled for him. He urinated on the gargoyle before transforming into a human form as the staircase began to envelop him. He strode up the stairs two at a time, eager to get this over with. The truth be told, Sirius was terrified. No one had ever attempted what he was about to do and lived to tell the tale, but Sirius no longer had a choice. This man had tampered with his family, and no one messed with them and got away with it.

"Sirius, what a pleasant surprise," Dumbledore exclaimed when Sirius came into view. Sirius instantly prepared his mental shields. Thirteen years in Azkaban had resulted in Sirius building the most impenetrable shields imaginable. The hardened steel fortress in his mind was successfully in place, and Sirius then continued to allow a fog, eerily reminiscent of the fog surrounding Azkaban, to surround his shields. The fog would contain memories and thoughts that Sirius wouldn't mind Albus seeing, and would give the Headmaster the impression that he had full access to his mind.

The meddlesome bastard was in for a surprise.

Sirius sat himself in the seat opposing Dumbledore's, and made sure that he had a clear, uninterrupted view of those piercing blue eyes. Their never-ceasing twinkling caused Sirius's inner resolve to tremble. The twinkling wasn't a natural effect. It was a side effect of the sheer amount of magic that resided within Dumbledore's veins. If Sirius didn't do this properly he was… well, not necessarily dead, but he'd be in such a position that he would never be able to rebel against the Headmaster again.

Realizing that Dumbledore was staring at him expectantly, Sirius began speaking. "Not quite a pleasant surprise Albus. I have some rather worrisome news about the Potters," Sirius said, the worry in his voice not having to be faked. The news about the Potters was worrisome indeed. Sirius made sure to hide the anger that was stewing violently inside of him though.

"Why, what news could this be," Albus replied, faking innocence perfectly. Sirius felt himself trembling inside at Albus's lack of humane response at meddling in other people's lives.

"Someone's been tearing apart James's memory," Sirius explained, staring unblinkingly into Albus's blue eyes, waiting ever so patiently, and then it happened. The twinkle in Albus's eyes faded as he began manipulating his magic. Moments later Sirius felt a feather brushing across the surface of his mind. Sirius dragged his memories further back into his mind, further back into the surrounding fog that veiled his fortress. The feather floated further in, trying to stroke the edges of Sirius's mind, and feel his emotions.

And then Sirius opened up the gates. Literally.

The portcullis of the front gates fell down and a swarm of shadows began screaming out. Sirius heard Dumbledore gasp in the real world as the Headmaster recognized Sirius's fortress.

It was Azkaban.

So many years within the prison had changed Sirius in ways that could never be healed. There was a madness within Sirius and it would not be removed. Such madness caused his mind to protect itself with the same prison that had tortured Sirius for thirteen years. It was an insanity that Dumbledore could never have imagined, and it was something the rational man couldn't possibly fight.

Sirius broke the streaming shadows up into their smaller fragments, and they encircled the intruder. Searing coldness erupted within Sirius's mind, and Dumbledore began shaking as the dementor's horrific effect began playing on the old man's mind. The dementor's sucked in with their rancid, hollow breath and pulled Dumbledore forwards into the stale, barren prison cells. Dumbledore finally put together a resistance, and released a torrent of patronus creatures; every single one he had ever seen in his life rushed to the old man's defence and fought off the dark creatures.

Using the brightly lit creatures as a distraction Dumbledore fled from the convicts mind as fast and as recklessly as he could. It was because of this that he never felt Sirius latch a fragment of his consciousness onto Dumbledore's retreating probe. Dumbledore unknowingly built a bridge for Sirius to infiltrate his own mind.

For thirteen years in Azkaban Sirius had no access to any magic. The wards upon the cell prevented any magic, wandless or wand related. Only his animagus transformation was allowed, and that was because the properties of an animagus were that Sirius wasn't changing into a dog, but rather that he was the dog. Sirius had therefore spent thirteen years practicing the only form of magic he could, mind magic.

In a pure battle of the mind, Sirius knew that Dumbledore would undoubtedly win. The man commanded too much raw magical power to fight head on. Years in Azkaban had allowed Sirius to fight mind battles differently however. Sirius built traps, scared the enemy, fooled them into thinking they had the upper hand.

In Sirius's mind, the enemy never had the advantage. Sirius would pretend that the patronus's were dominating, but only so he could sneak his way past Dumbledore's own ferocious mental barriers. There was no honour in entering another person's mind. It was already a disgusting, vile intrusive method, and so Sirius felt no worse for using underhanded methods to emerge victorious.

The tactic was so unusual, so unheard of, and simply so insane, that Dumbledore didn't stand a chance. As soon as Sirius slipped by Albus's solid steel mental barrier he smothered Albus's undefended mind in the black, tar like substance that represented his own mind. Dumbledore began to panic, and tried to formulate a counter attack, but it was futile. Sirius had already paralyzed Albus's flow of magic, and proceeded to paralyze the old man's limbs.

All the while, Sirius never stopped staring into those blinding blue eyes. His own gray eyes were swirling in anger and madness that promised relentless revenge. For a moment, Sirius held the core of Albus's mind in his grasp, and he had to resist the temptation to squeeze and crush the old man. Sirius could cause the man to become senile in an instant. It would be so easy, and so relieving. The power Sirius held over the old man was addictive. It was the power of mind magic.

Just as quickly as the impulse arrived, it left. Sirius had seen what dark magic had done to his blood family when they became engrossed in it. There was no one in the world with more of a reason not to fall prey to the addiction of power than Sirius.

Feeling disgusted that he was intruding in someone else's mind without their permission, Sirius began sifting through the memories as efficiently and quickly as he could so he could leave. It grew harder and harder to leave the old man sane the more Sirius discovered however.

Sirius discovered Albus's mass obliviating project. Hundreds of witches and wizards had their mind wiped by Albus. Not their whole mind, just specific parts. Sirius found himself growling when he discovered that all the erased parts were linked directly to Harry Potter. Sirius was ready to tear apart the man's mind, but he restrained himself. He couldn't. Not yet. He had to find the reason why.

Sirius dug deeper and deeper, searching for memories associated with his godson. Sirius discovered the prophecy that had caused so much trouble for the Potters, but he already knew the prophecy, word for word. What was surprising was Snape's involvement in allying with Dumbledore after he had overheard the prophecy. Perhaps Sirius had been too harsh with his old nemesis.

Thoughts of the slimy git could wait for later though. Sirius now understood from Dumbledore's thoughts why he had confounded the Potter's to abandon Harry as a child. Dumbledore had thought that only the chosen one could defeat Voldemort, and to ensure that Ryan had the greatest chance of success he had isolated him from his brother. Ryan must have the constant and unconditional love from his parents to be able to fight with the power the dark lord knows not, true love.

But there had to be something more. After all this time, sixteen years of isolating Harry from the world, why had Dumbledore suddenly welcomed Harry back with open arms. Sirius began to panic when he couldn't find anything, but then he hit something he'd never discovered before, a mental shield that wasn't constructed of magic.

This was one of the many reasons why Albus Dumbledore was called the greatest wizard alive. All occlumency shields were composed of magic; it was supposed to be impossible for a muggle to defend against legilimency, except that Dumbledore had created a bubble of defence formed solely by will power. It was frankly, horrifying.

It was still an unfair battle though. Sirius applied the full pressure of his magic and Albus's barrier instantly collapsed. The next moment Sirius was imbedded in a memory.

_When the dark lord falls to the hands of a child,_

_His soul will be shattered, his soul will be scattered,_

_He'll be truly alive, but not truly living,_

_As neither can live, while the other survives._

_The child of Potter, pure of heart and blood,_

_Shall be sacrificed on a fateful night,_

_And only then shall the Dark Lord be living,_

_And only then, can he be defeated._

It was a prophecy. A second one, one that Dumbledore had never mentioned. Sirius felt sick as realization began to kick in. Sybill Trewlawny, the same seer who had spoken the first one, had spoken this prophecy. The prophecy was recent, made only several weeks ago, and it was the reason that Dumbledore had brought Harry back into the wizarding world.

Ryan Potter was no longer the child pure of blood. Voldemort had used Ryan's blood to resurrect himself during the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Therefore there was only one Potter child that could stop Voldemort, and Albus had had the wrong child.

Albus's manipulations in the past few days spread far and wide, but they all resulted in one thing; isolating Harry Potter from the world. His parents had been confounded to not know of his existence, he had been placed with the Dursley's to live, possibly the most anti-magic Muggles in existence. Within Hogwart's, nearly the whole entire school hated the new Potter twin, and those that did accept him were being pulled away through Dumbledore's meddling. Already Lavender had been given a love Potion for a boy called Seamus, and Ron had been accepted back into his old clique of friends. Harry Potter was being isolated.

Dumbledore had even gone a step futher, and shown Harry Potter the Mirror of Erised to see what his deepest desire was, and to use that desire to manipulate Harry further. Isolate and manipulate, those were the two key words, and to what end?

To turn Harry into a willing sacrifice for the greater good.

_It was like watching a sheep to its slaughter._

The words echoed in Sirius's head, pounding into his brain and imprinting itself upon his mind. He felt sick. He couldn't stay here any longer; he was growing too unstable. Sirius began withdrawing from Dumbledore's dense mind, but not before recovering the memories the Headmaster had stolen from him. Sirius snarled as he discovered Dumbledore's intentions for Kahlan. He would never let this evil bastard anywhere near her.

Just before Sirius left Dumbledore's mind, and returned to the safety of his personal Azkaban, he began tearing apart the old man's memory of Sirius ever having intruded. When Albus regained mental conscious, he would never even remember that Sirius had visited him in his office.

Finally, still staring into those damning blue eyes, Sirius slowly pulled his mind out, until his consciousness was back where it belonged. The headmaster's eyes were glazed over, a side effect of the deadly foraging into his mind. Sirius felt no remorse however. After all the meddling the bastard had done, he deserved this much.

A burst of flames caused Sirius to stumble backwards. The white flames tugged at Sirius's feet, and he had to draw his wand and create a vacuum of wind to suck the flames away. Sirius swore as an angry, flaming bird swooped at him from above, leaving a raging wave of fire in its wake. Albus's phoenix had finally realized that Dumbledore had lost the mind battle and was protecting its partner.

Sirius had no choice. Fawkes would inform his partner about Sirius's mental intrusion, and for that, the bird must perish. Sirius raised his wand and cast a spell that would have him in Azkaban if he were ever discovered casting.

"Umbra Scadium," Sirius barked out harshly, and inky shadows shot out of his wand. They pierced the bird of fire and light, causing it to screech in pain. The shadows began consuming the bird from the inside, sucking the light out of the bird and replacing it with darkness. The majestic bird crashed to the ground, withering as feathers fell around it.

"Finite," Sirius whispered sadly, cancelling the spell. The phoenix ceased twitching immediately, but the darkness continued to consume the bird. Sirius left the office, unable to bear watching the phoenix die. It was a creature of the light, and it caused Sirius immense pain to attack it with such dark magic. It would not just murder the familiar, but taint it, preventing it from ever reincarnating. He had just murdered a phoenix, the symbol of the light, but he had no choice.

Sirius had a godson to save.


	13. Raw, Medium, or Well Done

"Alright class, wands out," the professor called out, his voice loud but weary, "Welcome to your first Defence Against the Dark Arts this year. Hopefully you all remember me from your third year, but if you don't, I am Professor Lupin."

Harry eyed the professor in his worn, ragged robes, and groaned internally. He had yet to withdraw his wand, as nothing good had yet to happen when he held his flaming death stick. The professor stared at Harry with his haunted graying blue eyes, and Harry stared back defiantly, daring the man to insult him. The snickering to his side suggested that Ryan was waiting for Harry to be embarrassed.

"Your wand drawn if you would, Mr. Potter," Lupin said after a moment of examining Harry.

"I'd really rather not Professor, I tend to set things alight when I do," Harry stated bluntly, causing the class to chuckle in agreement. Lupin smiled at him, but there was no warmth in the smile; it was just a reassuring gesture.

"I'm sure I'll be more than able to handle a few flames," Lupin replied. Harry grumbled under his breath, but pulled his wand out of his self-made leather holster. Instantly a trail of soft, flickering flames snapped into place around the redwood wand, and began a mesmerizing swirl. Harry held the wand cautiously, preparing for a sudden fireball to erupt from the end.

"See, nothing to worry about," Lupin said before turning to the rest of the class. "Now, the Headmaster has deemed it fit for a slight change in this class's curriculum. Instead of learning the theory of spells, we're going to be learning the practical use of magic."

The class looked rather nervous at this statement. Their previous teachers had been rather useless in the practical side of magic, so to hear such a bold announcement was worrisome. However, the students had faith in Lupin, as he had been their most reliable teacher yet.

"Now that everyone has their wands out, we're going to perform our first practical examination of magic," Lupin stated, and before anyone could ponder what that meant, the professor cast a charm.

"Expelliarmus!" the man bellowed in a sudden burst of energy, his usually weary eyes momentarily filled with vigour. The students in the class gave shrieks and shouts of surprise as the spell assaulted each individual. Wands were sent precariously flying through the air, clattering to the ground moments later like a badly orchestrated percussion performance. Only two wizards managed to maintain their grip on their weapons, Draco Malfoy and Ryan Potter.

"Ten points to both Gryffindor and Slytherin for maintaining possession of your wand," Lupin said, commended the two proud wizards. "As I'm sure you remember from one of your more eccentric professors, constant vigilance is a must." The students in the room flinched when those two words were uttered despite Lupin merely speaking them wearily, instead of bellowing them like Mad Eye Moody once had.

"I will neither confirm nor reject any rumours surrounding recent dark lords. However, there had been substantial evidence of rapidly increasing wizarding assaults occurring within Great Britain. The front page of the Daily Prophet has for the past month detailed a death or disappearance of a different wizard."

"I am not training you students to fight a war. I am teaching you how to protect yourself." Lupin stared out at the students, the scars upon his face suddenly glistening in the morose atmosphere he had created. "Now, you have ten seconds to retrieve your wand." Lupin added suddenly, and the class watched him, as if waiting for a signal to begin.

"Five seconds left," Lupin spoke, his voice barely raised yet containing traces of exhaustion. His voice caused the students to begin acting in a panic. Several students appeared to be able to think logically under pressure, and cast basic wandless summoning charms on their wands. Harry saw Padma grinning as she cast a few banishing charms on Hermione's wand causing the bushy haired witch to scramble around in a panic on all fours trying to capture it.

Despite the chaos, after ten seconds, all the students had managed to grab their wand. All of the students, that was, except for Harry, who had refused to join the wild mob of desperate witches and wizards. His redwood wand laid upon the floor in the center of the room, as if it were seeking the attention of the room's occupants, which it currently was doing quite well.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter, for not retrieving your wand on time," Lupin exclaimed, almost sighing as he spoke. He bent over to pick up Harry's wand off the cold, stone ground, but as his fingers stroked the cursed wood, the graying professor jumped backwards, making a sound reminiscent of a snarl.

"Perhaps, it would be best if you tried yourself to retrieve your wand yourself, Mr. Potter," Lupin said moments later, recovering from his shock instantly. Harry eyed the professor warily instead of complying.

"Are you daft? Did you not hear what he said?" Said a familiar, taunting voice that belonged to his brother. "You're holding up the lesson for everyone else. I'll just go and grab your wand for you if you're going to be so slow," Ryan muttered, but loud enough for all to hear him clearly. He stalked over to the redwood wand that lay innocently on the cold, hard stone ground.

"Ryan, stop!" Lupin bellowed, and Harry could see that in that moment, Lupin's teaching façade had collapsed, and his protective godfather mode had arisen. Ryan's fingers stopped a hairs breadth away from the wand, Lupin's warning reaching his ears in time.

"Remus?" Ryan asked, calling his professor casually by his first name.

"Do not touch Harry's wand," Lupin warned.

"Why?" Ryan asked cautiously, but in the silence that followed, the whole class could hear the furious sizzling and crackling that emanated from the stationary wand.

"You're holding up the lesson for everyone else," Harry interrupted, parroting Ryan's earlier words. Harry roughly shoved Ryan to the side with his shoulder before snatching his wand off of the stone floor. A reassuring rush of heat flowed through Harry's arm when he grasped the wood, and the familiar, flickering sheathe of flames upon the wand sizzled into existence, as if the wand was pleased it had been returned to it's owner.

"Bloody hell," said a voice in the crowd that could have only belonged to Ron Weasley. Harry turned to Ron, to discover he was staring at where the redwood wand had once lay. A black scorch mark had been imbedded into the Hogwarts stone floor.

"But that's impossible," Hermione began stating, as if everyone in the room actually cared, which they didn't, "The stones that construct Hogwarts are all charmed to be indestructible. You can't just burn a hole in the ground, it's impossible!"

"Nothing's impossible with magic," Harry snapped back at the know-it-all girl. He usually wouldn't have been so short tempered, but the day's constant barrage of irritations was wearing Harry down.

"Don't be ridiculous! Everyone knows magic can't do everything. Goldeman's theorem states that-"

"Give it a break Hermione. No one cares," Ron said, simultaneously groaning.

"The weasel has a point. No one cares mudblood," Draco drawled from the midst of the class.

"Silence!" Remus shouted, the word coming out as a ferocious snarl. His gray eyes shined in a fiery rage, as if he were containing an inner beast. "Enough bickering. There will be no more arguments in my classroom; this is your final warning!" The class fell silent.

"Now, everyone's paying attention, and everyone has their wands. Excellent."

"Expelliarmus!"

The students groaned as their wands were ripped from their grasp. Once again, only Ryan and Draco managed to maintain possession. As the students began to scramble for their newly lost wands, Remus examined the charred indent in the stone. He stroked the mark with his fingers, but flinched and withdrew his hand instantly. Harry spotted wisps of smoke trailing from the man's fingers.

Deciding one potential fire hazard was enough, Harry quickly retrieved his wand before he did the impossible and burnt down the stone classroom.

* * *

Harry couldn't stand the stares that followed him as he left the classroom. He was dreading going to the great hall for dinner, but he was starving, as he had been refused meals throughout the day. The anger inside him only grew though when he thought of all the witches and wizards that irritated him, that seemed to live only to make his life hell. Harry just wanted to enjoy a meal in privacy.

Then it hit him. Harry began strolling through the castle with a bounce in his step and a relieved smirk on his face. Screw the students, screw the school and screw the great hall, Harry had a friend he had known for years he could visit. Within minutes he was crashing through the giant wooden entrance doors and strolling across the twilight lit grounds towards a small, smoking cabin.

Harry stood in the fading light and stared at the cabin fondly. This small little abode was Harry's first experience of the wizarding world. When Neville had received his Hogwarts letter at the orphanage, Harry had glimpsed the contents within before his friend had been taken away by his grandmother. He had therefore known approximately where Hogwarts was located, and after he was forced to leave the orphanage, he had stumbled north.

Whether it was luck, skill, or magic that led him directly to the school of Hogwarts, Harry would never know. All Harry knew was that out of everyone who could have discovered his battered eleven year old self, it couldn't have been anyone better than Hagrid, the friendly half giant.

A gust of chilly wind tore Harry from his thoughts, and he began to pound on the rough wooden door with all his strength. The solid wood caused his knuckles to smart, but it was the only way to make enough noise for the occupant to hear him.

"Ello there Harry, it's good ta see ya," Hagrid said warmly, sticking his hairy face through the door. "Come in, come on in, ah got somethin' to show ye." Harry was quickly ushered in, and the door was slammed shut behind him. It was closed just in time too, as moments later a pack of baby foxes charged the door, sensing a chance for freedom. They failed, but only spent a moment reminiscing, and returned to playing with their siblings.

"What are these Hagrid?" Harry said warily. Although this was only the second time Harry had ever visited Hagrid's cabin, he remembered the creature that had been living here six years ago. Harry shivered at the memory. The scars and horrors of fire had still been fresh in his mind, and the fire spurting creature had not eased his fears.

"They're foxes Harry," Hagrid said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"And?" Harry prodded. Surely there was something more to these foxes than just the muggle versions.

"And wha'?"

"Last time I was here you owned a freaking dragon Hagrid," Harry exclaimed, "You named him Norbert, and give him a teddy bear. You adore ferocious and dangerous animal. Now, what's up with these foxes?"

"Ye make me soun' like a mad man Harry," Hagrid said, looking a little hurt. "I found a pregnant vixen, an' her dead mate beside her. She wasn't going to survive so I took 'er home. She gave birth to these four pups her. They're as harmless as could be."

"Sorry Hagrid, I shouldn't have presumed they were dangerous," Harry said, apologizing.

"S'all right Harry, I know you know that Norbert was as friendly as a teddy," Hagrid said as he scooted around his house and began making tea.

"That's not quite what I meant," Harry muttered under his breath. He was taken out of his musings when he felt a light nip around his ankles. He glanced down and stared into pair of mischievous blue eyes.

"Hello there," Harry said to the baby fox. He held out his fingers to the adorable pup who cautiously sniffed them. The velvet orange pup suddenly sneezed violently, and knocked himself off his legs, revealing the white striped of fur across his belly. Harry began tickling the fox's exposed chest and was rewarded with a squirming, panting baby fox. It yapped at Harry's tickling, and craned its head around in order to grab at his fingers. Blue eyes shined brightly as the fox continued to squirm helplessly on the ground.

"I see you've made a friend there," Hagrid said as he returned to the living room. Harry glanced up, and with his attention distracted, the fox rolled out from his fingers and escaped to his siblings.

"It's hard not to be friends with them," Harry said, looking at the adorable pups rolling around and nipping each other.

"Tha' one there's the only one with blue eyes," Hagrid said, referring to the blue eyed fox that had returned to Harry. He leapt up on Harry's lap with an almighty leap, but almost slid right off a moment later. The blue eyes stared at Harry curiously, before the fox opened its jaws wide in an enormous yawn, curling into a ball and dozing off to sleep. Harry smiled as he ran his fingers over one rust brown ear to the other, unusually coloured snow white ear. He drew his hand away from the sleeping baby, but it huffed in annoyance when his fingers left its fur, so Harry resumed his petting.

"What are you going to do with them," Harry asked, knowing full well that despite Hagrid loving animals to pieces, the half giant knew that keeping the pets locked up in his cabin would not be healthy for them.

"As soon as the vixen's ankle is healed I'll be releasing them in the forest," Hagrid replied sadly, his hand holding the cup of tea shaking slightly. "It'll be any day now."

"You're a good man Hagrid, looking after them like this," Harry said, honestly complimenting him.

"It's nothin' Harry," Hagrid replied, but Harry could see the traces of a blush on Hagrid's face at receiving praise. "Now, wha' are ye doing down here, shouldn't you be at the grea' hall for dinner?"

"You said I could come visit you whenever, so I thought I could eat dinner with you tonight," Harry replied, suddenly aware that he was being rather intrusive. Hagrid appeared not to mind in the slightest.

"Tha's fine Harry. How does steak suit you," Hagrid said as he bustled into the kitchen.

"Sounds good." Hagrid returned from the kitchen a moment later holding two giant slabs of meat. Each piece appeared to weigh a couple of kilograms.

"Which one d'ya want?" Hagrid asked. Harry could only stare with his mouth open at the giant pieces of meat.

He had definitely made the right decision to come to Hagrid's for dinner.

* * *

"I'm stuffed," Harry groaned as he leant back in the solid wooden chair. Hagrid chuckled at Harry's exhaustion.

"Ye did better than I expected. Ye've only got abou' a quarter left," Hagrid said, gesturing to Harry's plate with a corner of steak left on it. A corner the size of Harry's hand.

"I can't even take all the credit, these little rascals had their fair share as well," Harry said jovially, gesturing to the unconscious foxes who were sleeping comfortably on a belly full of food. The blue eyed pup had taken a liking to Harry, and had fallen asleep once again on Harry's lap. The vixen limped around the room and began gathering her pups by the scruffs of their necks and encircling them around her body, before settling to sleep. Harry gently carried his little fox to the mother, who eyed Harry warily, but nonetheless shifted her body to make room for her fourth baby.

"Ye got a name for 'im yet?" Hagrid asked, laughing and miraculously not waking up the animals.

"No, it'll be even harder to let them go if I name them," Harry replied, a little sad. He had enjoyed the fox's company, and found that he was going to miss his furry little friend.

"It's never easy," Hagrid said sympathetically. Harry sighed heavily, dragging his eyes away from the fox family.

"I should get going Hagrid, I've got some work to do," Harry explained.

"I know ye do, don't you worry about me," Hagrid said, opening the heavy wooden door for Harry.

"An' Harry, don't let all that nonsense the other kids say get to you. All ye really need is a few close friends to have a good time, not the consent of the whole school."

Harry couldn't help himself; he gave Hagrid the strongest hug he could manage. His arms barely wrapped around Hagrid's body, but it didn't matter. Hagrid clapped him on the book a few times before letting him go.

"Anytime you need someone to talk to, come to me, alrigh'?" Hagrid said, and at that moment, Harry realized what it might feel like to have a father.

Harry probably would have stumbled all the way to the common room in a daze if a grim looking dog hadn't pounced on him and slobbered all over his face. Harry laughed as he pushed the black dog off his body, and his laughter was quickly joined by another, gaunt rough laugh that belonged to his godfather. The two walked over to their usual meeting spot, in a small clearing on the edge of the forest where the motorcycle pieces lay.

The night wore on, and Harry began to realize that despite Sirius's happy charade and constant barrage of laughter and jokes, there was something on the man's mind. Only when the moon was high in the sky did Sirius finally confess to Harry.

"Listen kiddo, I've got to leave you for a while," Sirius said, "I had a few confrontations with some… people today," Harry noticed that Sirius seemed to be talking very vaguely, and wondered if there was a reason.

"I can't explain everything to you, your mind isn't protected, and certain people could take this information from you."

"You mean people can take information from my mind?" Harry exclaimed in shock.

"Not exactly, only memories and present thoughts," Sirius explained. "What I can tell you though is that I'm looking for someone who specializes in mind magic," Sirius admitted, while tapping his skull surreptitiously.

"This wouldn't happen to be anything about your bikes twin, would it?" Harry asked slyly. Sirius blinked, before grinning at Harry. The kid had just figured out a way to keep everything secret. If they spoke in riddles that only they would know the answer to, then even if someone stole this memory, the conversation would be useless to them.

"Yeah, I'll be taking these pieces with me," Sirius said, gesturing to the scraps of metal, "and then I'll be meeting someone who specializes in mind magic to help me get over the trauma of losing this beauty." Sirius shrunk and summoned the bike parts to himself before slipping them in an enlarged pocket in his pants.

"When I get back, I'll make sure both of the twins are fixed up," Sirius told Harry with a determined glint in his eye.

"Good luck then," Harry said, clapping his godfather on the shoulder. Sirius stared at Harry with his crazed, gray eyes, but there was compassions swirling within them.

"Look after yourself kiddo," were Sirius's last words before he transformed into a black, shaggy dog and ran off into the forest. Harry watched him fade into the trees before commencing the lonely walk to his common room. It was late at night, and past curfew, so he walked softly, careful not to run into any patrolling teachers or students.

"Portcullis," Harry whispered to the Fat Lady, who grumbled all the while as she was forced to wake up and let the Gryffindor student in. Harry slipped into the common room, and almost groaned as he saw a red headed girl sprawled on a couch, shivering as nightmares plagued her sleep. As Harry stared at the poor, horror-ridden girl, he remembered the first time he had seen her, and decided she still looked as breathtaking as the first time he saw her. Despite her obvious discomfort, Harry could not help but be mesmerized by the fiery hair that cascaded across her flushed face and melted across her body like molten lava.

Harry sat down on the ground in front of her and leaned his back against her couch. When he'd first seen Ginny he had been stunned by her looks. The setting had only made her seem even more beautiful, as the silvery beams of moonlight had lit up her small nose, cute cheeks and luscious lips. She had been crying that night, Harry remembered, and he craned his neck to stare at the freckled girl. She was still shivering as her dreams wracked her mind, but Harry didn't dare wake her. Harry hated how this innocent girl had to suffer so much.

Harry tried to contain a yawn, but failed miserably. Realizing that falling asleep beside a girl in the common room would only serve to further tarnish his reputation, he decided to get ready for bed. As he silently crept away from the couch, Ginny's shivering began to escalate, and Harry realized he had to do something. It just wasn't in his nature to leave a girl suffering like this.

He'd get her a blanket to keep her warm; that should be enough to ease his mind.

* * *

Ginny woke from her nightmare in a panic, barely containing a scream that threatened to wake up the whole dormitory. Her chest rose and collapsed rapidly as her heavy breaths rushed past her lips. The fire just meters away from her crackled weakly as the embers slowly died. She wiped sweat from her clammy forehead, and then wiped her sweaty palms on the blanket wrapped around her. All the sweat was disgusting, and Ginny was glad that no one had been there to see her like this.

Ginny suddenly froze as her hands gripped the blanket wrapped around her. She hadn't fallen asleep with a blanket. In fact, now that she thought about it, she hadn't fallen asleep this close to the fire either; she had fallen asleep in the dark corner of the common room.

"Harry," Ginny groaned, cursing her abysmal luck. Of course, if there were to have been anyone to see Ginny having another nightmare, it had to have been Harry. He was probably disgusted at Ginny's weakness, not to mention her gross, sweat-riddled body. Thoughts of sweat-riddled bodies caused Ginny to flush as she thought of Harry, but just as quickly, memories of her nightmare tore into her mind.

Harry had been standing there, staring at her. She had screamed at him to stay away, to leave him. She had been scared of him. Flames had rippled across his body, and the magical flames charred the very air around him. He had advanced upon her despite her protests. When he touched her she had screamed in pain as the fire tore through her skin, torched the inside of her bones, and razed her very soul.

It had just been a dream though, a nightmare. Ginny continued to tell herself this, forcing herself to believe it. Harry was not evil. He couldn't be. He was the one who had given her purpose in life.

_You should snap out of it. Life's too short to be hidden away like you are now._

Those words had come out of his mouth blunt and direct, but they had helped her more than anyone had in her entire life. His voice had been harsh, but the words had been compassionate, caring and honest. When life brought her down, she repeated those words like a mantra. How could she possibly believe Harry was evil if he was he one who had saved her?

But then, why was Ginny dreaming of Harry burning her alive?

She picked herself off the couch, grabbed the blanket, and trundled up the stairs to her bed. It would do no good if her roommates woke up and saw her bed empty, so Ginny would have to pretend to sleep for the next few hours. She wished that she could have a peaceful sleep for once. She slipped out of her clothes and slipped on her favorite, baggy shirt she had stolen from Bill's wardrobe years ago. She snuggled her way into the bed, wriggling her toes against the soft linen.

Realizing she was still holding onto Harry's blanket, she made to push it off the bed, but paused when a foreign scent rolled off the fabric. It was a musky smell, tinged with the faint, addictive smell of oil. It was Harry's smell. Growing up, Ginny had always imagined Ryan to smell like some sort of angel, to smell like lilacs and honey or something pathetic like that.

Ginny breathed in Harry's intoxicating scent that was infinitely better than what she had imagined. It smelled like the real world. She held the blanket closer to her chest as she hugged it viciously; imagining all the while that it was Harry looking after he.

Ginny fell into a deep, uninterrupted peaceful sleep for the first time in months.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore sat in his office mourning. He should have been at the great hall, greeting the students as they arrived for breakfast, but he couldn't bring himself to face the world.

Fawkes, his beloved familiar who had been his friend for so many years was gone. When Fawkes had been murdered something had died within Albus. Compassion be damned, he wanted revenge.

Albus immediatly quashed those rebellious thoughts before they grew into ideas. Revenge begets only more revenge. What Albus was truly worried about was why he had no recollection of Fawkes's death. One moment Albus was reclining in his chair, and the next thing he could remember, the shadowed remains of the phoenix's tainted body lay on the ground. Albus struggled to remember anything that could have caused the birds death. A powerful poison in the food perhaps?

It just didn't feel right however. Albus felt he was missing something. He pulled at the strings of his mind, pulled apart threads of memories, all the while trying to discover what was nagging him, but his search was futile. He discovered nothing. The old man leant his head into his arms and collapsed on the desk, tears threatening to roll down his face. It was almost as if someone had tampered with his mind.

Albus's head snapped up as the implications of that statement began to run through his head. His wizened mind ran through hundreds of possibilities before arriving at a comfortable conclusion.

"It appears someone's broken into my mind," Albus murmured to himself. He wondered who it could have been. It had to someone who he would have allowed entrance to his office, but someone who was obviously an enemy to him. Names began floating through his mind, but there were too many possibilities. There was only one way to truly solve this riddle.

Albus stumbled towards his expansive fireplace and threw a dash of floo powder into the stuttering flames. The flames began roaring with a recently acquired passion as it hungrily devoured the fine green sand.

"Ministry of Magic, Office of Mind Management," Dumbledore ordered into the fire. He only had to wait moments before an unfamiliar head appeared in the fireplace.

"You've contacted the Office of Mind Management, what is it you want," the wizard said, greeting Albus in a drab, monotone voice.

"I fear my mind has been tampered with, and require a specialist to examine and repair the damaged contents," Albus said, hoping that the Ministry would keep such information private, as it would do no good for the world to discover that Albus's mind was being attacked. Some already claimed he was going insane in his old age.

"Confirmed. I'll send our specialist over in two weeks," the man replied, his voice just as boring as before.

"You don't understand, this is an emergency, I need assistance as soon as possible," Albus frantically said to the man. It was about as effective as talking to a brick wall however.

"I'm sorry," the man replied, not sounding sorry at all, "but our specialist is currently working on several cases in foreign countries and won't be back for two weeks."

"I see," Albus said miserably. If only mind damage could be treated at St. Mungo's, but the mind was too advanced of a topic for the average wizard. "May I have this wizards name?" Albus asked.

"She's a witch, not a wizard," the man said, correcting Albus.

"Yes, yes, but her name. What is her name?" Albus spoke, his voice tense. He sorely disliked being corrected.

"Kahlan Joken," the man replied.

There was a silence as Albus processed this information.

"I've never heard of her before," Albus stated, despite the nagging feeling that he had heard the name recently.

"Not many folk have. She's an international witch. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do," the man finished, blatantly lying about his workload.

Albus gave himself a small smile. It wasn't what he'd originally hoped for, he'd hoped the appointment would be sooner, but in two weeks he would meet Kahlen Joken and she would recover his lost memories for him.

* * *

**Before anyone picks this out and gets angry at me. I know that the Hogwarts letter has no "address' per say as to where the school is. However, this is my AU story, and if I'm not allowed to change a few letters on a piece of paper, then I'll be damned. However, if i screwed up anywhere else, feel free to knock me down a few notches :)  
**  
**Cheers**

**-Council**


	14. Fight Fire with Fire

The blistering midday sun shone down upon the unkempt, yet lively green grass. A soft breeze played with Harry's raven hair, before sweeping along the countless blades of grass, whistling a song of nature. The only colour brighter than the fresh grass was the rustic orange fur upon the skulk of foxes, briefly interrupted by the bleach white patches of fur on their underbellies as they rolled upon the green carpet. The mother vixen sat on her haunches, watching disapprovingly as her cubs played with one another, oblivious to the world around them. One of the mischievous rascals broke away from the pack and skipped over to Harry's feet, its blue eyes blinking eagerly as it eyed him.

"Well cub," Harry said affectionately as he lowered himself to his knees, "I've only known you for ten days, but I'm going to miss you." The blue eyed fox yipped in response, and nuzzled its moist nose into Harry's open palm. Harry chuckled as he scratched the inside of the fox's pointed ears. The cub purred and pushed its head against the hand, eager for more, but Harry reluctantly pulled his hand back from the fox.

"Sorry pup, but at this rate I'm going to turn you domestic," Harry said regretfully. Blue eyes stared at Harry for a moment, as if judging whether he was joking or not. Seeming to come to a decision, the fox leapt at Harry's hand and dug it's teeth between his thumb and index finger on his right hand. Harry yelped in pain and shook his wrist to release his attacker. The fox hit the ground roughly, but jumped back to its feet in an instant and returned to frolicking with his siblings.

"That little bastard," Harry muttered, examining his hand. Two pinpricks of blood oozed out of his hand where the baby teeth had pierced the skin.

"He was jus' playin' Harry, no need to ge' mad," the half giant exclaimed as he stood beside Harry.

"One day you're going to find a pet that ends up playing with your dead body," Harry replied, slightly worried for Hagrid. Hagrid either didn't hear, or chose to ignore Harry however.

"Said yer goodbyes?" Hagrid asked.

"I'm done," Harry said. "So how do you release them back into the wild?"

"Yeh gotta scare them Harry," Hagrid stated.

"And how do you do that?"

"Like this," Hagrid said, before opening his mouth and releasing an all-powerful roar. Harry felt his body shake as the soundwaves hit his body, and he involuntarily took a step backwards. The skulk of foxes were worse off however. At the sound of Hagrid's roar the vixen began barking at and gathering her cubs, and the group all too eagerly fled into the nearby forest to escape the loud man. Harry could've sworn he saw a pair of blue eyes wink at him before the twinkling lights disappeared into the dense shrubbery.

"Yeh should see yeh face," Hagrid said whilst chuckling, "priceless."

"Remind me never to get on your bad side," Harry said, recovering from his shock of the roar.

"Ah don't have a bad side 'Arry, jus' a human side and a gian' side."

* * *

Harry soon left Hagrid and headed for class, a class that he was potentially late for according to his watch that no longer worked. He had skipped lunch to join Hagrid in sending off the foxes, and now had transfiguration with McGonagall. Not that Harry really cared though. It had been ten more days since his first lesson with her and he had yet to learn anything.

It was with this depressing attitude that Harry made his way up the staircases to the fourth floor. He swore rather loudly however when the first stairwell decided to elevate from the first floor to the seventh floor. The staircase rose agonizingly slowly, and if Harry had been slightly more eager to attend class, he could have easily leapt off the floating platform to a nearby stationary staircase.

As it was, he rode the staircase all the way to the top floor of Hogwarts. It was when he reached the sixth floor that he first heard the melodic sound. By the time the staircase had parked itself at the seventh floor Harry had confirmed that it was not his imagination, and that there was indeed a beautiful harmonious resonance bouncing off the drab castle walls. Curiosity having taken over any obligation to attend class, Harry made his way towards the source of the sound. He strode through a winding, ascending corridor, the sound growing progressively louder with each footstep, until a burst of light signified an archway to the outdoors.

Harry stepped out onto the stone balcony and let out a breath of astonishment as his eyes hungrily drank in the view. The beautiful, rolling Scottish plains were visible until the green land collided with the sky blue ceiling that domed above the world. Wisps of clouds hung lazily in the sky, dozing slowly in space as the winds nudged them to the side. All the while the pleasant singing rang across the empty balcony, calming Harry's mind and relaxing his soul.

He turned back towards the arch, and looked up above at the tiled roof of the castle and spied the source of the noise. Worn, white runners with pink stripes dangled off the edge of the roof, as mismatched socks upon the thin legs swung back and forth, crisscrossing one another. Blond hair wrapped around the eleven year old girl's face as the wind played gently across her cheeks that were flushed from the sun. Although the eyelids covered the intelligent blue eyes, Harry knew they were waiting beneath the thin layer of skin. Her young mouth was open as the melodious, emotional, yet mournful tune drifted past her lips.

"Willow," Harry called softly to the girl, trying to capture her attention, but so concentrated was she in her song that she was oblivious to his callings.

"Hey, Willow," Harry called out, louder this time, and his voice finally broke through her awareness.

"H-Harry!" The young girl squealed in surprise, "W-what are you doing up here?"

"Calm down midget, I'm not here to get you in trouble," Harry reassured.

"Who are you calling midget!" Willow snapped at Harry, "In case you haven't realized, I'm currently sitting higher up than you," she said, gesturing to her seat on the roof. Harry smirked at her before pulling off his restricting wizard robes, revealing his oil stained white shirt and denim jeans, and began to climb his way up the side of the castle. It wasn't a terribly tall roof, only three meters tall, and the climb was relatively easy. If Willow had managed it, then Harry, who was nearly double her height, could scale the wall with ease.

"Now who's taller?" Harry asked as he sat himself down beside her.

"That's cheating," Willow replied, crossing her arms and trying to look dignified.

"Only if we're playing by your rules," Harry said, causing Willow to huff. A smile soon graced her features however, and she leant against Harry, using his shoulder as a pillow.

"Now, why aren't you in class?" Harry asked the skiving girl.

"Why aren't you?"

"Touché." There was a soft silence as Harry waited for Willow to sort her feelings and say was on her mind.

"I hate this place," Willow eventually said, breaking the silence.

"Really? But look at this view," Harry exclaimed, "Look at that river over there, winding slowly over the hills. That jutting mountain under the orange sunlight covers it up just over there. Where do you think the river goes?"

"I don't know," Willow answered glumly, but her eyes began tracing the bubbling, snaking river.

"I guess I don't hate Hogwarts," Willow admitted, "I just hate the people here."

"I'll be the first to admit that Georgia is a pain in the-"

"Don't be mean to Georgia," Willow snapped, defending her first year friend.

"I was just joking," Harry said quickly, raising his hands in surrender, "Just checking if you truly hate everyone here."

"You're a pain in the ass, you know that?" Willow said haughtily.

"Hey, where'd you learn that word?" Harry exclaimed.

"From you."

"But I never finished that sentence."

"You've said it many times before."

"Your mother is going to kill me," Harry muttered, and awaited a sharp response from Willow, but none came. He glanced over at the girl and saw that she was now looking very downcast.

"Harry, can I ask you a question?" Willow asked timidly.

"Shoot," Harry said gently. Willow took a few moments to compose herself.

"Do my parents still l-love me," the girl asked, tears rolling down her face. The stammering turned into sobs and Harry wrapped one arm around the girl and pulled her against his shoulder. His other hand began stroking her blond hair reassuringly. Small, desperate hands clasped at his shirt as she began crying onto him, tears staining the cloth material.

"Of course they love you," Harry said with as much conviction as he could muster, "How could you think otherwise?"

"B-because they're dead," Willow stammered, still sobbing. "Dead people can't love me anymore."

'But that's where you're wrong," Harry replied confidently, "Just because they're dead, doesn't mean they're gone. Just because you can't see them doesn't mean they're not watching over you. Just because you're never going to see them again doesn't mean they ever have, or ever will stop loving you."

"You think they're still out there?" Willow asked with hiccoughs in her throat.

"The one's who love us never truly leave us," Harry replied sagely.

"When I sing, I sometimes think that I can feel them watching me, listening to me," Willow admitted. "I know it's stupid, but I really do think that they're with me. It's why I sing when I'm sad. It let's Mum and dad come along and comfort me."

"But that's silly, isn't it?" Willow added, her voice cracking.

"How about you sing for me, and then I'll tell you just how silly you are," Harry said. Willow gave him a weak smile, snuggled further into the side of his body and cleared her throat.

_Where you once were_

_Standing and smiling for_

_Me, who's here, you left_

_But kept your_

_Fingers wrapped around_

_My heart, I'll sing for you _

_if you sing for me,_

_We won't forget that _

_Where you once were_

_Standing and smiling for…_

The lyrics continued to fall out of Willows mouth as her angelic voice surrounding the two. Harry found himself calming down once more as the music played its magic upon him, and like a charm, he felt the worries of the world fade away. Harry glanced over at Willow, who was tucked into the side of his chest, and had to suppress a gasp at what he saw. Her blue eyes were shining and swirling with unsuppressed magic as she sang.

As her voice grew more powerful and confident her eyes continued to light up. Her blond hair began to shiver and sway as her magic began rising up around her hair. Wisps of hair breezed across her face as they attempted to float up towards the sky. The air around them shimmered as nature itself slowed down to revel in the beauty of her voice. And then Harry felt it.

He didn't see it, nor did he physically feel them. There was no scent that alerted him to their presence, nor was there any sound other than the harmonious singing, but Harry knew that they were there. Willow's parents were watching the two of them, brother and sister, rest against each other and take comfort in one another's presence.

They didn't speak it, nor gesture it, but Harry knew the spirits gave their love to the small child in his protection. He felt their acceptance of Harry as her guardian. They were so far away, yet so close…

Willow stopped singing, and the sensation disappeared instantaneously. Harry's stomach plummeted as the spirits presences vanished, but otherwise the world continued to operate as if nothing had occurred. The stray tails of wind floated past the two children sitting upon the roof of the majestically old castle, as two pairs of eyes followed the river that never ceased to flow.

"Where do you think the river leads?" Willow asked Harry.

"I don't know. Would you like to find out someday?"

"I'd love to," Willow said as she snuggled into her brother's arms.

"Let's figure out a good class to skive then," Harry replied as he protectively tightened his arms around his sister's shoulders.

* * *

Ryan Potter was having trouble deciding if he hated Ginny Weasley or loved her. Over the summer he had spent so much time talking to her, drawing her out the shell of awkwardness and shyness she had hidden herself within her whole life. Even Ron had grudgingly admitted that Ginny's sudden courage had seemed to result from Ryan's efforts. Ryan didn't really know what he'd done, as he hadn't said anything especially life changing to her, but he must have done something.

He had thought the two of them got along pretty well, even if did seem like she was forcing herself to carry a conversation. It had at times been like she had been ordered by someone else to talk to people, and she was only doing so because she had been asked.

Nonetheless, Ryan had fallen for the red head, and fallen badly he had. Therefore, when he had sat with his crush at the great hall this morning, and all she had talked about was his pathetic brother he had been outraged. She should be talking about him, and joking around together like they had all summer. What was even worse was that she didn't seem to be forcing words out of her mouth when she spoke about Harry. They came naturally, as if she were speaking her mind, and this, more than anything, infuriated Ryan. How the hell had Harry gotten his claws within Ginny?

Ryan knew he was letting his emotions rule his judgement, but he found that he didn't care. His brother could rot in hell for all he cared right now. Talking about his brother, Ryan glared across the Gryffindor dining table towards Harry and Ron. Ryan felt betrayed that his life long friend had switched sides so quickly once Harry had arrived in the school. The two were talking about something intently, and although flashes of jealousy tore through his heart, Ryan pushed them away, turned back to his food and pretended he didn't care.

When the Indian Ravenclaw prefect made her way over to the Gryffindor table however, and joined in the intimate conversation, Ryan couldn't help himself. He stood up and stealthily made his way along the long table until he was in eavesdropping distance of the group.

"…So you're saying that she sung a song and summoned the dead?" Padma asked.

"Can you not say it like that? I don't like it, it makes it sound like a demonic craft" Harry replied.

"What else do you want me to call it?" she retorted.

"How about communicating with the spirits?" Harry suggested.

"It doesn't matter what you call it mate, she's still summoning the dead," Ron said bluntly.

"Shut up, alright, she's an innocent eleven year old girl, who is most definitely not dabbling in dark magic," Harry stated angrily.

"Younger people than her have fallen for dark magic Harry," Padma said softly and cautiously.

"And I'm telling you she's not doing any of that stuff. If you were there you would understand that it was as far away from dark as possible," Harry said. There was a pause in which Ron and Padma glanced at each other nervously.

"You don't trust me, do you?" Harry said, looking defeated.

"No, it's not that mate," Ron said quickly, "It's just that, well…"

"In all of wizarding history there's never been a necromancer who hasn't turned evil," Padma finished for Ron.

Ryan's ears perked at the word necromancer. Harry personally knew a necromancer, one of the most vile and dark kinds of magic wielders that existed. Not only did he know one, but also he was trying to justify the evil bastard. Ryan scrunched his fingers up into a tight fist. He knew his brother wasn't to be trusted, and this was further proof.

"Then Willow's going to make history and become the first ever light necromancer," Harry stated adamantly. Ryan gasped loudly as he realized who the group was talking about. The three suddenly turned to stare at their eavesdropper, but Ryan had no shame to feel guilty.

"Willow is a-" Ryan began loudly, but was cut off when Harry launched out of his seat and clamped a hand around Ryan's mouth.

"Do not dare say that out loud," Harry whispered venomously. Ryan tore himself out of Harry's grasp and hissed back.

"You think I'm just going to stand back and let you train her into a bloody necromancer?"

"Don't you dare tell anyone about this," Harry whispered again, glaring at Ryan.

"You have no power over me," Ryan snapped, and to prove his point he drew his wand and banished Harry backwards into the tables. Plates of food clattered and shattered on the ground as Harry slid along the table. By now the brothers had made enough of a scene that the great hall was watching with interest.

"Harry, challenge him to a duel," Padma hissed.

"What?" Harry replied, confused by her tactic.

"Don't think, just do it," Padma snapped at him.

"I challenge you to a duel," Harry shouted at Ryan. Ryan smirked at his brother. He had truly done exactly what Padma has asked of him and not thought. His brother didn't have an ounce of magic and had asked for a magic duel. Ryan was going to enjoy this.

"I accept your challenge," Ryan replied gleefully, "What are your conditions."

Harry must have known he stood no chance in a magical duel against Ryan, yet Ryan could spy no regret upon his face.

"If I win the duel, you will in no way, form or means reveal what you have learnt tonight in this conversation," Harry replied, green eyes glaring at Ryan. Ryan for the first time understood why wizards were so nervous when Ryan was angry with them. The blazing emerald green was frightening. Ryan was both a Potter and a Gryffindor however, and would not becowed.

"Agreed, but if I win the duel," Ryan grinned, "You will in no way, form or means communicate with Ginny Weasley again." Harry blinked rapidly, and for the first time that night, Ryan saw confusion upon his brother's face. Ryan had expected outrage at his condition, yet Harry merely smiled and nodded his head.

"Agreed."

* * *

"You're mental Padma," Ron exclaimed. "Harry's gonna lose, and then he's never going to be able to talk to my sister again, and she's going to end up with his git of a brother," Ron said, groaning all the while.

"Can you think of a better idea Ronald?" Padma snapped at him.

"No, it was bloody genius," Ron said grinning at her. Padma sighed, her angry façade fading instantly.

"You're an idiot Ron," she said, but it was spoken gently and with compassion. Padma turned to face Harry worriedly.

"I'm sorry for doing this to you Harry," Padma said, but Harry was unphased.

"Don't apologize Padma, you gave me a chance to protect Willow. You've done more than I could possible have asked for," Harry said, smiling at his two friends before he turned to face the duelling stage. After dinner had finished Professor Flitwick and Professor Lupin had pushed the eating tables to the side and conjured a raised, rectangular duelling platform. Lupin had stated that it would be a good demonstration for his Defence Against the Dark Arts students, while Flitwick had simply been ecstatic to be refereeing a wizarding duel.

"Besides," Harry continued, "You're both talking as if I've already lost."

"But Harry, you don't know any magic," Padma exclaimed.

"All I have to do is to knock him unconscious right?" Harry asked.

"Or disarm him," Ron said.

"I'm going to enjoy knocking him out," Harry said, completely ignoring Ron. Suddenly a magically enhanced ringing echoed throughout the Great Hall, signifying for the duellers to step onto the platform. As both brothers stepped forwards, Ron groaned.

"Harry doesn't even have his sneakers tied, he's not thinking straight."

"What have I done," Padma moaned to herself.

* * *

Ginny watched from the audience as the brothers bowed towards each other. She, just like the rest of the students and teachers watching, had no idea what the Potter's were duelling over, as no one had overheard the conditions. However, she, just like the rest of the students and teachers, were eagerly watching what was the entertainment for the night. Ginny could hear Neville betting big money on Harry to win. He was the only one though, and despite Ginny's growing crush on Harry, she had her doubts on his victory. Still, Harry held his wand confidently in his left hand and showed no trace of backing down.

"Begin!" Flitwick bellowed, and the duel began.

Ryan launched a trio of powerful concussive curses at Harry who, instead of deflecting them with his wand like any normal wizard would, he rolled beneath them. The curses flew over Harry's head and would have collided with a group of awestruck second years if it hadn't been for the powerful dome charms placed around the duelling arena. The concussive curses hit the shield, and the near transparent rippled as it absorbed the energy. Dumbledore himself had put up these shields, so the students had no fear of collateral damage.

As Harry picked himself up from the roll Ryan cast a stupefy that hopped along the ground like a bouncy ball. The glowing, crackling sphere of red energy was impossible for Harry to roll under, so he instead tore off his wizards robes and used them as a shield. As Harry sprinted forwards, holding the robes like a makeshift shield, the cloth absorbed the magical bouncy ball and protecting him. A moment later a shredder spell quickly tore the material into strips.

Still running towards Ryan, Ginny realized what Harry's plan was; to close the distance between himself and his brother and then physically disarm him. It was a risky plan, with the odds not in his favour, but Ginny realized that it was also Harry's only plan.

Harry's plan was doomed to fail however, as he had only closed half the distance, about fifteen meters, and had already lost his makeshift shield. Ginny winced as she saw a bombarding curse leave Ryan's wand. The hissing spell tore through the air at Harry's defenceless body, and the audience oohed at the near miss when Harry dropped to the floor to avoid the curse.

Ryan sent a trio of bombarding curses at Harry next, in a vertical line so Harry would be unable to dodge beneath them. Harry slipped his untied shoes off his feet in one smooth motion and threw them at the incoming lights. They collided with the bottom two spells, causing a rain of fabric and rubber to assault Harry's body. He ignored the raining shoe remains and instead rolled under the third bombarding spell, grabbed his fallen wand in his left hand, and continued to sprint towards Ryan.

Harry was close, ever so close, his fist was drawn back in preparation to strike Ryan in the face, when Ryan waved his wand and cast a most powerful spell.

"Graviterium!" Ryan bellowed, and Harry was smashed into the ground in an instant. The wooden duelling platform groaned and creaked as the gravity-enhancing spell affected all but the user. It was fortunate that Dumbledore had implemented the duelling dome else all of the great hall's occupants would have been squirming on the ground.

Ginny's heart went out to Harry. He had tried valiantly, but it was obvious he had lost. The Graviterium spell had increased Harry's bodily mass by over five times. He had no chance of retaliating. Despite his hopeless position, Ginny couldn't help but admire as Harry's arms shook with the effort of trying to pick himself up.

Instead of ending the duel, Ryan banished Harry to the other side of the duelling arena and released the Graviterium spell. Harry movde as fast as he could and tried to pick himself up, but he was unable to evade the practically harmless leg-locker curse that flew his way. Harry collapsed to the ground as his legs snapped together, and barely kept a grip on his wand as his chest slammed into the hard wood. There were chuckles throughout the audience as they realized that Ryan was now playing with his brother.

Ginny watched Harry intently as he stood back up to his feet, struggling the whole way with his bound legs. Despite him being humiliated within the entire school, Harry stood with his shoulders held wide, and his head raised high.

"What are you going to do now, brother," Ryan taunted, practically spitting the last word. Harry was silent as he focused on his attempts to hop towards his brother. Ryan cast a weak pushing charm at Harry's legs as he was in mid hop, and the resulting force caused Harry to spin and slam into the stage, his nose smashing into the wood. Blood poured out of a wound in his forehead, and Ginny began to feel sick. She couldn't believe Ryan was doing this; it was practically torture. Ginny wanted Harry to give up, to spare himself the pain, anything but this.

Harry refused to give in however. He raised himself back onto two feet, struggled and succeeded to maintain his balance, but was forced to withstand a variety of childish hexes. His hair was turned vomit yellow, boogers began pouring our of his nose, he began to throw up slugs, and was once again thrown to the ground through the use of a basic Wingardium Leviosa charm.

By now the school was laughing quite jovially, but Ginny had never felt less amused. How could these freaks actually enjoy this? No wonder she had ignored all these people for her first five years of Hogwarts.

Ginny felt tears welling up in her eyes as she watched Harry pull himself up from the ground once more. He held his wand in a death grip with his left hand, and his back held straight as he faced his opponent. It was a noble stance that displayed Harry's indomitable will. He would never be defeated like this. Embarrassed, made a fool of, laughed at, yes, but defeated? Never.

"I'm rather sick of this brother," Ryan said casually, smirking all the while, "It's time to end this."

"Expelliarmus!" Ryan said lazily, and the audience watched as the basic disarming spell sped towards Harry, who could do nothing but glare at the incoming ball of light. Ginny squeezed her eyes closed, unable to watch the proud man fall to his defeat.

There was silence.

Then the world exploded.

* * *

Harry glared at the spell that sped towards him, marking his defeat. Harry's gaze then sild further behind towards the source of the spell, to the boy that Harry currently felt uncontrollable fury towards. Harry felt anger towards his brother for embarrassing him in front of the school, but that anger was nothing compared to the righteous rage he felt towards Ryan for threatening Willow.

Harry glared into those emerald green eyes and felt his insides boiling. His bones felt like they were on fire, and his skin was searing. His sight was blurring into a haze of rage. The expelliarmus spell rushing towards him was forgotten. His anger longed to be released. He didn't want to lose.

He wanted to hurt Ryan.

Harry raised his redwood wand and let the rage flow throughout him unbridled. The expelliarmus spell was almost upon him, crackling in anticipation to rip the weapon from its wielder, but Harry paid it no heed. Instead, whilst fury swirled through his body, he willed with all his might for something to happen. Flames began erupting from the tip of the wand. They poured out like liquid and surrounded Harry's body in a sphere of molten fire. The expelliarmus spell was incinerated as it collided with the wall of flames. The fire protected Harry, but it wasn't enough. He wasn't satisfied. The anger inside of him wasn't sated.

He wanted to burn Ryan.

And then the world exploded.

The fire that was wrapping itself around Harry erupted around him, sending tendrils of searing flames soaring outwards. The fire greedily expanded and smashed against the dome barriers. The powerful shields held for only a moment before the flames pierced through and continued to inflate across the great hall. The flickering fire twisted like a tornado in the room, while the powerful stench of burnt hair reached Harry's nose, but he was oblivious to the implications.

The tendril of fire from his wand feeding the monster snapped off, and the flames conjoined at Harry's shoulders blades. The fierce flames that were terrorizing the great hall were pulled back towards their master. The two twenty foot branches of fire protruding from Harry's back pulsated and curved until they were reminiscent of flapping wings. Harry barely registered the notion that they were, quite literally, wings of flames attached to his shoulder blades before he shot off the ground.

Harry instinctively flapped the wings, and the fire flickered as it propelled him towards Ryan, who was staring at his brother in horror. Harry was closing the distance between the two at an alarming rate, and Ryan only had time to cast one spell.

"Graviterium!" He shouted. The occupants of the great hall groaned as they were smashed into the hard, stone ground. The dining tables were crushed under the intense gravity, and the magically suspended candles plummeted to the ground, burning the teenagers. The glass within the windows shattered and fell upon the students, drawing blood and screams from the helpless, paralysed witches and wizards.

Harry continued to soar towards his brother as if the spell didn't affect him. Instead, the wings of fire doubled in size, until they were easily half the width of the great hall. The tips of the wing hissed as smoke and heat was ventilated towards the ceiling in an effort to keep their master afloat. As Harry reached his brother he raised his wand above his head, and swung it down to strike Ryan.

"Protego!" Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts bellowed at the top of his voice, and a shield of shimmering, translucent diamond appeared in front of Ryan. Harry's redwood wand collided with the ridiculously powerful shield, and he felt a jolt in his arm as the shield halted the attack.

Harry's wand began rippling in a sheathe of pure white flames which burnt with such intensity that they tore through the magical barrier. Harry slammed the wand downwards across Ryan's chest, causing him to cry in pain as the fire burnt through clothes and skin. Ryan's wand fell out of his grip, and he collapsed to the ground on his knees.

"Do you surrender?" Harry asked, the words cold and bitter in his mouth. The thirty foot wings continued to protrude from his back, flapping casually as they supported their master.

"I surrender," Ryan panted, struggling to breathe as the wound on his chest continued to burn his skin.

"Enough!" Albus Dumbledore bellowed as he cast the most powerful concussive curse he could muster at Harry, but Harry was unconscious before the curse had left the Headmaster's wand. The roaring flames surrounding him had diminished into petty embers by the time the curse crashed into his chest. His limp body was lifted above the ground and sent soaring across the great hall. Harry collided solidly into the heavy wooden entrance hall doors. Bones in his body snapped as he collapsed to the ground in a tousled heap.

If one had seen Harry's face, they would have shivered at the peaceful smile that resided on his face while the rest of his body lay broken.

* * *

**And after 14 chapters and 70,000 or so words, Harry finally uses some magic. Was it worth the wait? Most of you will probably say no, but that's alright I guess...**

**Cheers**

**-Council**


	15. An Eye for an Eye

The girl laughed as Harry chased her around the oak table. She crawled in between the heavy wooden legs that had lain upon the cracked, spidery floor for so long that soft indents dug into the ground. The table sat in the middle of the room, and was an immovable, unchanging center of Harry's life. Since the day he had been brought to the orphanage the table had stood proudly in the centre of the room, domineering the occupant's attention towards it.

Harry's hand fluttered across the back of the girls bleached white dress as she scampered away from him.

"Got you!" Harry shouted as he turned around to flee.

"Nuh uh, I didn't feel anything," the girl replied, her chestnut hair bouncing around her chubby cheeks.

"I so tagged your dress though," Harry said.

"It doesn't count if I didn't feel it," she said, poking her tongue at Harry, revealing a prominent missing tooth.

"No fair," Harry complained, but he nevertheless turned back around and chased her through the legs of the table. He scrambled along the ground, and once he was out from the shadows of the table he rushed to his feet, only to be quickly knocked back to the ground.

"Oww, my head," Harry whined, clutching the top of his head with both hands.

"Are you alright?" The concerned girl asked.

"I'm fine, I just hit my head on the edge of the table," Harry explained, before groaning and clutching his head.

"You're eleven years old Harry, I think you're getting a little too old to be climbing under tables," an older voice reprimanded. Harry looked up sheepishly at the source of the voice. A man in his late forties stared down. He had graying hair and a rough spatter of facial hair that looked in need of removing. His thin lips were drawn sternly, but there was mirth roiling in his gray eyes.

"I'm not too old Mr. Peterson," Harry argued.

"If you're not too old to climbing under tables, then you wouldn't mind scrubbing the floor would you?" Mr. Peterson replied. "Because unlike you, I'm too old to reach some of those places."

"It-it's fine Mr. Peterson, we'll go play outside. I'm a little too old for tables. Isn't that right, Christie?"

"Yeah yeah, too old!" Christie replied, her chestnut hair flying across her face as her head bobbed her head up and down. She, just like Harry, had no wish to be doing chores today. Mr. Peterson smiled at the two, and looked to be about to say something more until the heavy, wooden brass knocker echoed throughout the orphanage.

"It seems we have a guest," Mr. Peterson mumbled to himself, and then a little louder, "Off you two go then. Don't let me catch you under any more tables." Harry and Christie both shouted their affirmation, and then bounded off to their bedrooms to change into their winter clothes. The wind outside was brutal if one was unprepared. Harry heard Mr. Peterson, his favorite man in the world, mumble about 'it being a strange time of the year for visitors', but paid it little heed as Christie yelled that she was stealing Harry's favorite beanie. The front door creaked as Mr. Peterson dragged it open.

"Good afternoon, what do I have the pleasure of-"

Mr. Peterson's voice was cut off as his rough scream tore through the building. All seven children, including Harry and Christie, stopped their immediate activities, and stared at the entrance hall in confusion. There was no fear on their faces. Not yet.

"Mr. Peterson, are you alrig-"

A man cloaked in black sauntered around the corner, and the young, scrawny boy known as Chris ran into the black mass. Chris fell on his backside from the impact. He stared up at the daunting figure, ruby red eyes swirling in the midst of white chalk lines upon the midnight black mask.

"Who are you?" Chris asked curiously. There was still no fear.

"_Inscissor_," the cloaked mystery hissed, and a bolt of light shot out of his wooden stick, straight through Chris's forehead. Blood splattered the wooden ground and seeped through the cracks of the aged floor. Harry could see light through Chris's head as he stared through the back of the hole through to the front.

There was silence, but only for a moment. The screams erupted simultaneously, as if the children had rehearsed to react in such a way.

Now there was fear.

The air reeked of it, Harry drowned in it, and the masked man reveled in it. He sauntered further forwards towards the nearest child. Harry clenched his eyes closed as the dark glove reached towards him, but he never felt the harsh grip. Instead, his eyes were wrenched open by the sound of a high pitched, ear shattering scream. The closest child hadn't been Harry, but rather Christie.

The man's hand was strangled around Christie's neck. Her small legs were kicking the air helplessly as she was raised off the ground. She scratched at the man's hand and arm with her nails, but they couldn't scratch the impenetrable cloth that surrounded the black devil.

"H-Harry," Christie croaked, her usually warm brown eyes staring at Harry pleadingly.

"Let her go!" Harry shouted, his voice cracking. The masked man glanced down at Harry, and although the mask covered the facial features, Harry instinctively knew that the monster was smiling.

"Ahhh," the man hissed, "Harry Potter, you shall pay. Your family dared to fight against the Dark Lord, and they shall suffer slowly, beginning with you."

"Let Christie go," Harry shouted again, not knowing what the man was talking about. He didn't even know who his birth parents were.

"You mean this pathetic Muggle brat?" The man questioned, but it was rhetorical. "So be it." The black devil waved his wooden stick, and Christie flew out of his grasp. The young girl didn't even have the time to scream before she slammed into the opposite wall. Her body exploded from the impact. Blood splattered the children in the room, while other various organs spilled to the ground.

Harry stared at the bloody mess. It couldn't be Christie. It was impossible. That could absolutely not be Chrisite.

But then Harry saw the strands of chestnut hair splayed across the room. It was chestnut hair that belonged to only one person, one person who no longer existed. Harry began hyperventilating. His breath was catching in his throat while his heart pumped extravagantly. There was nothing except the beating of his heart ringing in his ears, that grew louder and faster. It grew and grew, expanded and became as rapid as a rabbit heart, as rapid as the vibrations from a musical string.

"Now for your turn, Potter," the black devil hissed, turning towards Harry.

"Leave her alone," Harry cried, "Leave us alone," He shouted even louder.

"Leave me alone!"

Harry yelled with all the strength he could muster, and as the words left his mouth, so did the rapid heart beat in his ears. Heat and anger flowed out of his small body, leaving him cold and empty on the inside. The anger manifested itself around Harry in a haze of orange and white light. The light crackled and sparked, and every thought of rage that left Harry's body caused new eruptions of light and heat to appear.

The black devil took a step backwards in surprise. The glowing red eyes that were stained with the blood of the innocent widened in shock as the magical flames seared towards him. The flames spooled from Harry's fingertips, and each strand of fiery anger pierced the monster through his body. The bullets of fire passed through cleanly, leaving holes just like the hole in Chris's forehead.

The man screamed as the fire pierced him. The bullets smashed into the wooden walls behind him, setting the old and dried wood ablaze. The man raised his wand in a last and final desperate attempt.

"Avada Keda-"

A tornado of fire erupted from the monster's feet, greedily engulfed the cloaked murderer and the man's curse was cut off by his screams of pain. Fire continued to pour out of Harry's body as he glared at the murderer in contempt. It was for Christie, Harry told himself. This man would suffer for Christie.

The man's screams faded away but the fire continued to wrap around Harry's body. It pulsated in an aura around him, blackening the floor, and setting the nearby furniture ablaze. It was uncontrollable, but it was powerful. Harry stood in the middle of the death and destruction and felt like laughing. This was power.

"Harry, we have to go, the building's collapsing. We have to go now!"

Mr. Petersons voice rang through Harry's ears, snapping him back to reality. The scent of burning flesh flooded Harry's nose, and he felt tears from the smoke creeping out of the corner of his eyes. The sound of children screaming caused Harry's legs to give out and he collapsed to his knees.

Alex, a child younger than Harry, and with a little too much baby fat on his body, ran towards the exit, but was caught in a tornado of flames as the immovable oak table blazed away. The wooden legs collapsed, after years of holding up the table, and pinned Alex to the ground. He screamed as the flames enveloped his body, and they only quieted once the snap of his skull collapsing echoed around the blistering room.

Mr. Peterson grabbed Harry with his left hand, which was strange, Harry thought dimly, because he was usually right handed. Harry stared at the stump of flesh where the old man's right arm used to be. Blood poured out of the wound that looked as if it had been sliced in one clean strike. The man was obviously in pain, but he continued to drag Harry to the exit.

They were only meters away when the roof gave in, and pillars of timber caved onto Mr. Peterson. He shoved Harry sharply towards the exit as the timber crushed the man's chest, flattening his lungs and heart simultaneously. Harry cried in fear and confusion as he stumbled out of the burning house. He collapsed on the cool grass, and stared back at the hellish scene. Black smoke billowed out of the roof, and the roaring orange flames lit up the sky in a blood red.

Harry curled into a ball and began crying. His screams tore through the surrounding, empty forest, devoid of all human and animal life. Harry prayed that someone would find him, and would save his brothers and sisters and Mr. Peterson.

But no one ever did, and the sole child cried alone.

* * *

Ginny sat in the hospital wing positioned between two Potter boys. Ryan was on her right, groaning in pain as his hands unconsciously tried to scratch at the third degree burns littering his chest. Madame Pomfrey had assured her that the burns would heal, and even the scars would fade in time. Ryan would be fit enough to play quidditch by the end of the week.

Harry lay to Ginny's left, and he was covered in a mess of bandages, plaster and slings. He had broken both legs, his left arm, several ribs and cracked his femur. Only his right arm was undamaged, and it lay on his chest restlessly, twitching and clenching involuntarily. Harry's face was scrunched up, and he was panting heavily, but Ginny was unsure whether it was from the pain, or a traumatic nightmare.

She sighed as she alternated between staring at the two boys. There was the boy who she had crushed on for the past ten years, and had personally saved her from a basilisk, and then there was the boy who had, quite literally, crashed into her life, and had been causing shockwaves ever since. Ginny knew who it was she should love. She should love Ryan, the boy she owed her life to, but she found that it simply wasn't the case anymore. It wasn't that she didn't want to love Ryan, it's just that she physically couldn't bring herself to feel such emotions anymore.

Then there was Harry, who spoke with such bluntness, yet whose actions spoke louder than his words. He would sit with her through her nightmares. He wouldn't probe her, or ask questions. He wouldn't try to diagnose her problems and treat her like an ill patient. He just sat with her. Did she love Harry? She didn't know. What she did know was that Harry was the only one who had drawn her out of her shell after the diary incident. He hadn't healed the wounds, but he had helped, almost like a salve to numb the pain.

Harry hadn't talked to her often. Ginny could list the number of conversations they'd had on her fingers, but unlike Ryan he had never ignored her before. Ryan had spent five long years living his life, not even aware of Ginny's existence. Despite knowing Ryan for longer, Ginny felt that she knew Harry better than his brother. She groaned in frustration and lowered her head into her hands. Nothing made sense to her right now.

"Ginny?" A weak voice called out, and she turned to face the now awake Potter.

"Hello Ryan," Ginny replied, her voice just as weak. Flashes of the duel whipped through her mind. They were all visions of Ryan unnecessarily humiliating his brother.

"You're not hurt are you?" He asked, his voice full of concern. Ginny hated the sound of his voice. Why couldn't he have been concerned for the past four years of her life?

"I'm fine Ryan," Ginny said.

"That's good then," Ryan whispered, "I was afraid my brother might have…" his voice trailed off as he struggled to remain conscious. Ginny wouldn't let him take the easy way out though.

"Afraid that what, Ryan?" Ginny snapped.

"That he may have burnt you, like he did to me," Ryan said bitterly. He glanced up at Ginny as if he was seeking compassion, but Ginny wasn't about to give him any. In the past she would have closed her mouth, and meekly given him what he wanted, but those words kept ringing through her head.

_Life's too short for you to be hidden away like you are now._

"Now you listen here Ryan Potter. You got yourself in this mess and you deserve every scar on your body your brother gave you. I don't know what you two were fighting over, no one does, but you went too far. You purposely prolonged the battle to humiliate your own brother. I thought you were a better man than that," Ginny said, her voice beginning to fade as her rant ended, "But I guess I was wrong."

"No, wait, Ginny, you don't understand. I was fighting for you," Ryan said, scrambling for words as he tried to make Ginny understand.

"What?" Ginny replied.

"If I won, he wouldn't be allowed to talk to you anymore." Ryan probably would have said more, but Ginny practically blew up in rage when she heard this.

"You two idiots were dueling over the right to talk to me?" She shouted, her face growing red in anger.

"Well, no, I was, he was dueling on behalf of Willow," Ryan said meekly, beginning to realize that he wasn't putting himself in the best light.

"Since you were dueling for me, it's only fair I make my own conditions, right?" Ginny snapped, "Well then, I refuse to talk to you from now on, Ryan Potter. That's not because you lost either, it's because you're a selfish brat."

Ryan's face collapsed in despair. His green eyes sunk in depression, and he stared anywhere but at Ginny.

"Ginny, I'm sorry…" he murmured sadly, before slipping unconscious.

"I'm not," Ginny growled back, despite him unable to hear.

"Was that really the way one should treat those who fight for them?" A new, gravelly voice asked, and Ginny spun around to face the Headmaster.

"Headmaster, I-I didn't see you there," Ginny stammered.

"I know you didn't, but does that make it right for you to speak to Ryan that way?" Dumbledore asked, and Ginny felt herself stepping backwards as the old man stared vigorously at her. She backed into a bed. Harry's bed. He whimpered as the bed shook, and his various, bandaged appendages stirred. Ginny felt a fire of anger rise up inside her.

"What about you?" Ginny argued, reveling in her newfound confidence, "What gives you the right to break one of your students?"

"I have the right to protect my students from other students if the situation demands it," the Headmaster replied, his voice soft but fierce.

"You mean the right to protect the Boy-Who-Lived from any student?" Dumbledore winced at this. Ginny had hit the nail on the head. He refused to admit it however.

"I have the right if the student is deemed dangerous and mentally unstable." Ginny stepped closer to Harry and placed her body above his head protectively. She didn't like the way the Headmaster was glancing at Harry.

"Harry is neither dangerous or unstable. If anyone is, it's you Dumbledore," Ginny snapped, but she regretted the words the moment they left her mouth.

"Alas, what has become of you Ms. Weasley. It appears," Dumbledore said sadly, "that Mr. Potter has become an influence you must forget about," Suddenly the Headmaster's wand was in his outstretched hand, and before Ginny could react he fired off a spell.

"Obliviate," the Headmaster cried, and a gooey mass of silver erupted from his wand and sped towards Ginny's defenceless figure.

"Harry," Ginny cried, as she wrapped her arms around the broken boy in desperation.

"Ginny," Harry breathed in response as a gust of air dripped past his dry, cracked lips. Before Ginny could comprehend the voice, an unbandaged arm shot over her body and threw a pillow at the offending spell. The silver mass collided with the feathery bag, and the pillow imploded. A cloud of down erupted from the impact, temporarily obscuring the Headmaster from view. Ginny heard Harry grunt in pain as she felt herself pulled over his body, away from the Headmaster.

"My bloody arm," Harry groaned, but he nonetheless pulled out his wand and pointed it at Dumbledore.

"Leave us alone," Harry demanded.

"I'm afraid I cannot. You see, it is imperative that-"

"I don't care what you think," Harry snapped, but groaned when the effort of raising his voice send spasms of pain through his body. He regained himself, and spoke again.

"Leave us alone, or else."

"Or else what?" Dumbledore replied calmly. "You don't really think you're in a situation to be making demands. Surely you must realize you stand no chance in a duel with me."

Ginny couldn't understand what was going on. Why was the Headmaster suddenly acting this way? He had never threatened a student before.

'Because a student has never spoken out against him before,' a quiet voice in the back of Ginny's head whispered to her. She glanced desperately at Harry, but was surprised to see him smirking.

"I know I can't beat you Dumbledore, however," Harry cursed under his breath as he twisted his arm further around and pointed his wand at a new target. "Can you save my precious brother before he burns?" Ginny could tell by the look in Harry's eyes that it wasn't an idle threat. It couldn't have been. His emerald eyes were fierce, and proclaimed that Harry would not hesitate to kill.

Albus glared at Harry, the comforting sparkle in his eyes absent. Wands continued to be pointed at the defenceless and the innocent until one of them gave in.

"So be it Harry," Dumbledore remarked, before sheathing his wand and storming out of the hospital wing, his purple cloak spotted with golden stars billowing out behind him. Harry stayed alert, his wand arm stiff, and his emerald eyes glaring at the exit.

All was silent as both Harry and Ginny stared at the spot Dumbledore once stood at. The seconds ticked over until Harry gave a sigh of relief, and the mask of indifference on his face morphed into one of pain.

"I can't believe he fell for my bluff," Harry said, "All those years of playing poker paid off I guess."

"W-w-what? Bluff? You were bluffing?" Ginny managed to say. How could he have been bluffing, his face had been so serious.

"Of course I was, I don't have a clue how to control fire. What I did in the great hall was an accident," Harry admitted. "Besides, even if I could, I could never kill someone in cold blood, even if it was my idiot brother."

Ginny didn't know whether to feel relieved that Harry had no murderous tendencies, or disappointed that he had not actually had the ability to protect her. Harry began swearing softly as he maneuvered his arm back around and returned his wand to its leather sheathe beside his body. He patted the empty space beneath his head and sighed when he couldn't find his pillow.

"Reparo," Ginny said as she pointed her wand at the feathery carpet that littered the bland, white hospital floor. A cloth pillow case began to regurgitate itself in midair as the fine feathers began to shiver and vibrate. They were eventually sucked into the cloth bag as if they were vacuumed within. Finally, the cloth bag sealed itself with a neat layer of stitches, and fell to the ground with a soft poof. Ginny picked it up off the ground and slipped it under Harry's neck. All the while, Harry stared at the pillow with amazement reflected in his bright green eyes.

"That simple spell broke so many laws of nature," he said in a shell-shocked voice, and Ginny was worried she had done something wrong.

"I love it," Harry said with a goofy smile on his face as his head fell into the plush pillow. "I love how magic can surpass even the impossible."

"Magic can't do everything Harry," Ginny warned, but Harry just scoffed.

"Course it can. I've yet to see something that can't be done."

"You can't bring the dead back to life," Ginny replied softly, "Not like they were when they were alive." Harry refused to respond.

"So, what's a beautiful girl like you doing at my bedside?" Harry said, breaking the silence that occurred. Ginny couldn't stop the blush that painted her cheeks as she heard the word beautiful.

"I've woken up to you suddenly sitting beside me enough times that I thought it was time to return the favour," Ginny said with a grin.

"Fair enough," Harry replied, returning the grin briefly before wincing when pain shot through one of his broken bones.

"Are you alright? You looked like you were in pain while you were sleeping," Ginny commented worriedly. She wanted to touch his arm reassuringly, but was afraid she'd hurt him.

"I'm not going to lie, it used to hurt like hell," Harry admitted, "But I'm pretty drugged up right now. Madame Pomfrey said my bones will be healed by tomorrow. I didn't really believe her at first, but hey, magic can do anything, right?"

"So you weren't in pain earlier?"

"Nah, I was just having a bad dream," Harry said. His voice was nonchalant, but it was a mask for his true feelings, a mask for the damage done by the nightmare. Ginny knew because it was the same voice she spoke to with her parents after her nightmares.

"Care to share?" Ginny asked.

"Not really," Harry replied.

"Thought as much," Ginny said with a sly smile on her face, but it slid off as she remembered her own nightmares.

"Eye for an eye," Harry said suddenly. Ginny just looked at him confused, so he elaborated.

"I'll tell you about my nightmare, if you tell me yours," Harry said, and Ginny felt trapped. On one hand she desperately wanted to know what fears plagues Harry. It was wrong, it was a morbid kind of curiosity, but she couldn't help herself. On the other hand, Ginny feared to tell anyone her nightmares. She had only known Harry for a short while, but he had come to mean so much to her. She didn't want to lose him when he discovered she was tainted with dark magic.

"Harry, I-"

"It doesn't have to be now," Harry said softly, and Ginny forced her eyes to stare at Harry. His emerald eyes were warm and comforting as he tried to reassure her. "In fact, if we started now, I'd probably fall asleep half way through," Harry said with a dry chuckle. "I'll wait until you're ready."

"But, you promise you'll wait?" Ginny asked. Harry held out a pinkie, and with his good arm, poked Ginny's hand until she held out hers as well.

"Pinkie promise. Cross my heart and hope to die," Harry chanted as he entwined his larger finger around Ginny's petite one. Ginny just stared at him, her chocolate eyes disbelieving.

"You're an idiot," she finally said.

"I'm childish, thank you very much," Harry replied indignantly, but a smile eventually crept it's way on his face, and Ginny couldn't help but smile back.

"That's better," Harry said, his emerald eyes gazing into Ginny's eyes, "You look much cuter smiling than frowning." Ginny was speechless. She tried to formulate a witty response, but no words came to her.

'Damn him,' was all she could think of. The infuriating boy in question leant back into his pillow, and closed his eyes peacefully. He looked ready to fall asleep, even if he had only just woken up. Ginny had to restrain herself from stroking a strand of his messy raven hair that was being swept in the wrong direction.

"Ginny," Harry murmured, breaking her out of her obsessive trance, "During the duel… did… did I hurt anyone?" Ginny so desperately wanted to lie to him, to tell him no one had been hurt. She didn't want to plague his mind with more depressing thoughts, but then Ginny thought about her own life. Would she want people lying to her, even if it was well intentioned?

"Almost everyone in the school suffered burns," Ginny said softly. There was no gentle way to say it. "Everyone was treated immediately, and only Ryan will have lasting scars, but between your fire, the candles, and the graviterium spell, no one escaped unscathed."

"Even you?" Harry whispered.

"I lost a few strands of hair," Ginny admitted, "But Madame Pomfrey grew them back in an instant," she added quickly, trying to reassure him.

"I see," Harry simply said, obviously not comforted by her words, but before she could continue, his breathing evened out, and he fell asleep.

* * *

"All right Seamus, cough up," Neville demanded, holding out his hand and waiting for the familiar clink of gold to clatter into his palm. There was a noticeable pause as the Irish boy hesitated in handing over the money.

"A bet's a bet Seamus. Ryan lost, so you owe me ten galleons," Neville pushed, and the boy finally relented and emptied his coin purse.

"That's all me money Nev, now scram will ye?" Seamus muttered angrily, and Neville was only too eager to comply. He had been able to put up a brave front as he tracked down the countless individuals he had made bets with on the duel, but once he had collected the money, he soon became his usual nervous wreck.

It had been over twenty-four hours since the duel, and Neville felt that it was time he visited his friend who had allowed him to make such a profit. He had heard that Harry had been unconscious for the majority of the whole day, and was hoping that when he went to visit after dinner he might be stirring.

Neville made his way to the hospital wing, his moneybag clinking agreeably at his side, hoping that his friend was awake. It had been a shock seeing Harry at the beginning of the year. His old friend had changed so much since they had known each other at the orphanage.

Neville sighed as he recalled his childhood. As an act of revenge, Death Eaters had murdered his parents days after You-know-who had been vanquished by Ryan Potter. The Aurors had caught the perpetrators, namely Bellatrix LeStrange, who was now locked away in Azkaban. Augustus Longbottom, Neville's grandmother, should have been given custody of him as a baby, but the death of her son had traumatized her. She only regained sense of the world around her when she heard news that Neville had received his letter to Hogwarts. Before then she hadn't believed that her grandson was a wizard.

Neville opened the door to the hospital wing and was surprised to see Harry not just awake, but walking around on two feet. He still had various bandages wrapped around his body, but Neville could tell that all of his earlier broken bones were healed. Magical surgery may have been painful, but it was quick, and it was effective.

Most curious of all was the large assortment of items layered atop of Harry's hospital bed. There were several sets of Muggle clothes, his leather jacket, a variety of knives ranging in size and purpose, camping equipment including a tent, the twisted remains of a elaborate wooden shotgun, an extensive tool kit and a large bag of trail mix. Neville had no idea where all these items had appeared from, but he presumed they were Harry's.

As if sensing there were a pair of eyes staring at him, Harry turned around, his redwood wand in hand. He lowered the weapon when realization flickered through his emerald eyes, and a smile graced his features.

"Hey Neville, what are you doing up here?" Harry suddenly frowned, as if a particularly nasty had struck him. "You haven't been cursed by someone again have you?"

"No, no, I'm perfectly fine Harry. I came up to visit you. And to, uh, thank you."

"To thank me?" Harry asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Because you won the duel I made a killing on all the betting," Neville explained.

"Wait, wait a minute," Harry suddenly said, interrupting the boy, "You're telling me you actually bet on me to win the duel?" Disbelief coloured Harry's voice.

"Well, yeah, of course I did," Neville said.

"Why?"

"Because you're my friend." The simple answer appeared to stun Harry, as his mouth slid open. However moments later he was back to organizing the items on his bed.

"Thanks Neville, that means a lot," Harry said honestly. "Here, give me a hand and hold this bag open for me." Neville did as instructed, and held Harry's tattered, backpack open at the rim. Harry began dropping the objects on the bed within. Neville quickly realized that the backpack was a rather advanced enlarged object, especially when Harry pushed the meter long tent rods within.

"Do you always carry that much around with you?" Neville asked. Harry nodded, shouldered the backpack, donned his leather jacket, and marched out of the Hospital Wing.

"W-wait, Harry? Are you going somewhere?" Neville asked as he chased after the raven haired boy. Harry never broke stride, but he glanced over at Neville, as if contemplating whether to tell him.

"During the duel, how many people were hurt?" Harry asked.

"No one was unscathed," Neville admitted, "Well, except for that Ravenclaw Prefect, but that's only because Ron protected her with his body. He got some pretty serious burns from doing that."

"So tell me Neville, is it safe for someone like me to stay in a school full of children?" Neville was speechless.

"Y-You're not leaving Hogwarts, are you Harry?" The boy asked fearfully. He had just made a friend; he didn't want to lose him already.

"I'm afraid so. If I stay here, where I'm continuously provoked, I'll just end up hurting someone again." They had finally arrived at the front doors to Hogwarts. It was dark outside, the stars already twinkling brightly. No one would ever know that Harry had left. They probably wouldn't realize until tomorrow morning, and by that time he'd be long gone.

"Well, this is it Neville," Harry said before holding out a hand. "It's been good seeing you again. I hope we meet once more in the future." Neville grabbed the outstretched hand and shook it thrice. Harry turned around and pushed open the heavy, formidable wooden doors.

"Wait, Harry," Neville called, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his moneybag, "Take this. You earned it, and you'll probably need it more than me." Neville threw the considerably weighty moneybag to Harry, who caught it in one hand.

"That's one heavy bag Neville," Harry stated.

"Yeah, I managed to make a lot of bets. No one expected you to win." Harry smiled and threw the bag back at Neville. He scrambled to catch it, and even then it only just caught on the tips of his fingers.

"It's easier to fight than it is to have faith in someone to fight for you. Keep it. You earned it," Harry said, and with those parting words Neville's only friend in Hogwarts faded into the encompassing dark of the night.

* * *

**And done. I'm tired. You all don't care. Read and enjoy!**

****

Cheers

**-Council**


	16. A Beating Heart

Neville returned to the Gryffindor common room incredibly late. Harry had left hours before, and by now it was well past curfew. Neville had lived within the walls of Hogwarts for six and a half years now though, and he knew enough about the estranged castle to avoid being caught. Neville desperately wanted to inform a teacher of Harry's disappearance, as he didn't want to lose his friend, but Neville also realized that such and act would be a sign of betrayal. It was with this divided mindset that Neville had been pondering around the moonlit, stone castle.

It was only when the yawns began escaping from his firmly shut jaws did he relent and retreat to the Gryffindor common room. He muttered the password to the Fat Lady, who frowned at him for disturbing her slumber, and clambered through the portrait hole. He was about to march up the stairs to the boy's dormitory when he heard a voice.

"Harry?"

The voice was decisively female, and as Neville backtracked to the fireplace, a cascading curtain of flaming hair revealed the speaker's identity.

"No, it's Neville," he replied to her.

"Oh," Ginny replied, her voice crestfallen. Her face was pale beyond belief. Every one of her countless freckles blistered in comparison to her chalk-white cheeks. Trails of sweat peppered the nape of her neck, and her hands were clasped firmly together, yet still subtly shaking.

"Are you alright?" Neville asked, somewhat stupidly. Obviously she wasn't all right, but Neville didn't really know what else to say to a distressed female.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Ginny replied, her voice steady, but consciously controlled. "You wouldn't happen to know where Harry is, would you?"

Neville hesitated. He didn't want to rat out his friend who had just fled the school, but now was Neville's chance to finally admit to someone that his friend had disappeared. What would Ginny do if she found out? Would she tell Dumbledore immediately? Would she tell Ryan? If she did, Ryan would undoubtedly make it known to the entire Gryffindor common room before morning.

Neville couldn't say no to such a distressed face however. There was a flicker of fire in her dead, chocolate eyes. It was a flicker of hope that was waiting for Harry Potter. Neville had to tell her. He couldn't leave her in the dark about something like this.

"Harry left Hogwarts tonight," Neville whispered sullenly. There was silence as the words penetrated the empty common room. He glanced over at Ginny, and was unsurprised to see her panicking. Her eyes were wide and unblinking.

"What?" She exclaimed, her jaw hanging loose.

"He indicated that he'd be leaving through the main gates and leave through Hogsmeade-" Neville's explanation was cut off as Ginny jumped to her seat and began nervously pacing.

"No, no, no! He can't go. We have to go get him Neville. We have to go now!" Ginny's voice was beginning to rise to a dangerous volume. Any louder and she might have started waking the other students.

"We can't Ginny. He chose to run away. Besides he left hours ago, there's no way we can catch-" Neville was once more cut off by Ginny as she grew more frantic.

"You don't understand Neville, we have to stop him-"

"No, you don't understand Ginny. We have to let him go, it was his-"

"Neville-"

"No Ginny, we have to-"

"There are Death Eaters outside Hogwarts!" The echoes of her proclamation bounced around the circular room.

"Listen Ginny, I know there are Death Eaters outside Hogwarts. I do believe that You-know how has returned. But what does that have to do with Harry?"

"You still don't understand Neville. They're outside of Hogwarts. Like, just outside. Like, in Hogsmeade." There was a pause as Neville tried to absorb the information. "Where Harry is!" She shrieked, and knowing that her voice had definitely woken up a number of students Neville grabbed her hand and tugged her out of the common room. As soon as the Fat Lady was shut behind them Ginny tried to speak, but Neville hushed her, and rapidly led her to the school grounds. Only when they were outside the castle and away from any patrolling teachers did he let her speak.

"Listen Neville, I know you care about Harry but we have to go find him. He's not safe out there."

"How do you know there are Death Eaters?" Neville asked. He almost wished he hadn't when he saw Ginny's face shut down and close up.

"I just do, all right? Now, are you going to help me or not?

"Well…" Neville hesitated. He wasn't brave. He didn't want to believe that there were actually Death Eaters out there. If there were, then he had to fight them. Neville shivered just thinking about it. It was so much easier to pretend there were no Death Eaters, then his friend wasn't in danger, and Neville wouldn't have to be brave and help him.

"Fine then, I'm going by myself," Ginny shouted forcefully, and turned her back towards the stammering boy. She was about to storm off when a new voice caused her to freeze.

"Who's ou' there?" A rough, suspicious speaker called through the gloom. Neville saw Ginny draw her wand, and he struggled to do the same.

"I can see yer wands. Drop 'em or I'll shoot!" Neville dropped his to the ground with a nervous squeak, but Ginny kept hers raised and pointed at the direction of the voice. Slowly, ever so slowly, a figure emerged through the darkness. The unknown loomed over them. He carried a wooden crossbow that would have looked out of place on the average witch or wizard, but not on this giant of a man.

"Hagrid?" Ginny called nervously into the dark. The shaded figure stopped advancing.

"Ginny?" Hagrid replied gruffly, before slinging the crossbow over his shoulder and quickening his pace towards them. "Blimey Ginny, yeh scared the the livin' daylights outta me."

"You could say the same for us, Hagrid," Ginny replied dryly. Hagrid chuckled as he saw Ginny's shaking wand hand. He proceeded to clap Neville on the back, who was shivering all over.

"Buckle up there lad," Hagrid chuckled, "Nothin' to be afrai' of." Neville obviously still thought there was with the way he was eyeing Hagrid's casually stored crossbow.

"Hagrid, what are you doing out at night with that crossbow?" Ginny asked.

"Why, it's me job of course," Hagrid replied proudly, "Keeper of the Keys, that's me. I got to make sure nothin' makes it's way teh the castle."

"I thought you were just the gamekeeper," Neville muttered.

"Now, wha' are you two doing ou' at this time of night." He suddenly looked between the two of them. "I'm not interruptin' somethin' am I?" Neville blushed profusely, while Ginny looked rather irritated at the insinuation.

"Harry ran away from Hogwarts," Ginny explained, "We need to stop him before it's too late."

"He ran away from Hogwarts yeh say?" Hagrid asked, somewhat nervously.

"Yeah, he should have passed through Hogsmeade sometime," Neville added, but his voice died off when Hagrid began glaring viciously.

"Those bloody centaurs. Bane couldn't just for once give me a bloomin' normal answer. They knew this was happening, mark my words."

"Hagrid, what's wrong?" Ginny asked nervously. She had never seen the usually friendly half-giant riled up like this.

"We 'ave to find Harry. There are bloody Death Eater's roaming around ou' there."

"Wait, you mean you know about the Death Eaters too?" Ginny blurted out. Hagrid looked at her curiously.

"Obviously I'm not the only one," he stated, causing Ginny to freeze up. "I dunno how you found ou', but the centaurs were tryin' te warn me. Blasted creatures can't speak if it ain't done through a riddle though." Hagrid began to head towards his cabin.

"I've got a way to catch up teh Harry, yeh comin?"

"Of course!" Ginny shouted, as she began jogging to catch up to the half-giant.

"Well, I-"

"Neville," Ginny said firmly.

"All right, I'm coming, I'm coming," Neville replied. He chased after the other two on their way to save Harry. He didn't feel brave though. He just felt foolish.

* * *

Harry was trudging slowly along the worn out, cobblestone path that led towards the magical village of Hogsmeade. The journey had taken him far longer than it should have, but Harry's mind had been plagued with thoughts that were weighing down his feet. He still didn't know if he was doing the right thing, and that thought bothered him.

Harry hadn't lived a life of stability. He had left behind town after town, leaving both workplaces and acquaintances. He had never had any doubts or regrets about leaving, as he had never had any attachment to any of the locations. He'd never had an actual friend in any of his short stopovers. Sure, he could make a raucous pub full of men laugh and smile at his jokes, but once the night was over no one truly remembered the strange, young lad known as Harry Potter.

Harry had only been at Hogwarts for two weeks. That was a short time period, even by his standards, so he didn't understand why he was feeling guilty. Why did he harbour regrets about leaving?

Harry realized that, once again, his feet had stopped moving. He angrily stomped up and down before marching onwards. He didn't know where he was going. He didn't even have his faithful motorcycle to get him to the next town. He'd have to catch public transport. Hopefully Hogsmeade would have something non-magical to ride on.

A piercing cry broke through the surroundings, and for the first time that night Harry glanced around himself. He was standing on a wide section of the path, perhaps ten feet wide, on his right was an expansive, gaping cliff wall and on his left was a dark, shrouded forest. The cry erupted again through the quiet scenery, and Harry turned towards the forest. Dark, oak trees drooping with midnight emerald leaves haunted the entrance. The earlier cry hadn't been human, but rather a mix between the howl of a dog and the shriek of a cat.

Harry wasn't a complete idiot. He'd trekked across the countryside often enough to know that wild animals were a serious threat. However, there was something about the howl, something so reminiscent and painful that he felt compelled to examine the area. He slipped his backpack to the ground, rested it in the shadows of a low growing shrub at the edges of the forest, withdrew his longest, foot-long knife from the backpack and stalked into the vestiges of the ominous woods.

Despite wearing sneakers, which were generally not the stealthiest footwear, Harry crept along the leaved and mossy carpet rather quietly. The tops of his toes pressed down gently on the dirt ground, confirming whether any dry plants were about to crackle or snap beneath his touch. The soles of his shoes would hover and pan across the ground, determining the most silent route.

Harry had been forced to hunt animals with his shotgun for food at times, and such stealthy maneuvers had been instinctively drilled into him. After all, it's near impossible to hit a fleeing deer. Harry held in a sigh. He wished that he had the comforting weight of the shotgun in his hands. It had been missing since the Hogwarts Express incident, and he'd been unable to leave Hogwarts and purchase a new one. Perhaps when Sirius returned Harry could figure something out…

Harry gingerly stepped through the next curtain of trees and overhanging moss and froze in shock. Barely twenty meters in front of him stood four wizards and, well, a… giant. There were no other words for the monstrous behemoth. It stood twenty-four feet high, its head peering over the tops of even the tallest trees. Rough, ragged, scarred and tanned skin littered its gaping body, and being covered with only a rag around its nether regions, Harry could see the numerous battle wounds marring its chest. Its long, gorilla like arms hung loose at its side, its biceps and forearms as wide as a car. Its fingers dangled at his knees, each digit as wide and nearly as long as Harry's frame.

Harry glanced at the knife in his hand. It may well have been a pin needle for all the use it was going to be. Harry shook his head at that thought. He was _not_ going to fight the giant. He _was_ going to run away. Something didn't feel right to him though. How was it that something as loud and, glancing at the giant's movements, clumsy, have marched through the forest soundlessly? It was impossible; it defied all the laws of nature. Something that large should not be able to walk without setting off minute earthquakes of noise.

"Recast the charms," one of the wizards muttered at the same time a dusty, pearl of moonlight shone down upon the clearing. The black cloaks and masks that the wizards wore sucked up the surrounding light, causing their swaying capes to ripple in inky darkness. They were Death Eaters.

"_Silencio!_" Another Death Eater cast, pointing his wand at the stumbling giant who was currently knocking over trees in an eerily silent manner. A cyan glow of light left the man's wand and enveloped the giant creature. The giant batted at the light with his piano like hands, but only resulted in smacking his own face. Its mouth opened in a roar of pain and irritation, but no sound left the beast.

"Silencing magic," Harry whispered to himself, "Magic can freaking do anything."

The familiar cry of pain erupted through the uncannily silent scene, and Harry remembered the original reason he had dragged himself into this mess. The remaining spotlight of moonshine lit up the gruesome scene in a bath of angelic silver light. Furry orange bodies littered the ground, marred with pools of glistening red blood. Several lithe, rustic limbs were splayed across the forest carpet, displaying bone and blood pulsing arteries.

"Stop that Macnair, we have a mission to complete," one of the Death Eaters whispered to the man facing the pile of animal bodies.

"Just a moment, I'm almost done playing with these foxes," and before anyone could utter a word of complaint, Macnair jabbed his wand at the largest fox, the mother, who was curled protectively around her remaining cubs.

"_Umbra ligne!_" He snarled, and an inky blob of darkness erupted from the vixen's stomach, murdering her from the inside out. Her insides splattered both the ground and her two remaining cubs.

"You have such sick hobbies," one of the Death Eaters muttered, but Macnair just laughed the insult away.

"Look at the baby, trying to protect his sister, isn't that adorable?" Macnair said sweetly. Harry locked eyes with the shaking pup. It was standing in front of his sister, teeth bared, and a child like growl bubbling from its clenched jaw. One ear was a rustic brown, while the other was pearly white, stained with droplets of his mother's blood. Familiar blue eyes glared out from the defiant cub, and recognition exploded throughout Harry's body.

"_Expulso!_" Macnair snarled, and the blue eyed fox was blasted back with a blow of magic and collided with a solid tree. His still form slid to the ground.

"And as for you," Macnair proclaimed, facing the last quivering cub, "_Axium Erridium!"_

Harry was prone to rashness. There were many moments in his life that he regretted. They were moments when he acted first and thought second. As his hand flicked up to the side of his ear, knife held by the blade, Harry understood that this was one of those rash, stupid moments. However, as the knife left his grip and began its uninterrupted sweep towards Macnair, Harry felt no regret.

The purple light left Macnair's wand, and it sped towards the quivering cub. The knife ripped through the wispy, black cloak that surrounded Macnair's body but it was too late. Even as the knife plunged through cloth, flesh, blood and bone, the purple light smashed into the crippled fox, and moments later her head was torn off mercilessly. The head hit the ground at the same moment Macnair let out a shriek of pain as the knife pierced his right shoulder.

Four black cloaked Death Eaters turned to face Harry. The giant was still unaware that anything had occurred, and was busying itself with whacking an oak branch back and forth. Before anyone could speak Harry's wand was out of its sheathe and in his hand. He imagined his rage as a weapon. His anger was an unblockable, all-piercing sword. He jabbed his wand at the black clad group, and without a single word, roaring, flesh-searing flames speared outwards.

The first array of fiery bolts smashed through all of the Death Eaters defences. The clear blue, twinkling protection charms were shattered into glass-like fragments as the sharpened fire tore through. The Death Eaters flinched as the fire bolts struck them, but they didn't cry out in pain. They were battle hardened veterans after all. They wasted no time in raising their wands for their counter attack, but the next wave of steaming fire bolts was already rocketing towards them.

The fire bolts would have been fatal if a ginormous, scarred hand hadn't flung down in front of the Death Eaters, absorbing the shards of fire. Although Macnairs screams had been unable to distract the giant, Harry's impressive display of fire had practically blinded the vicious beast, and it was now attempting to put out the light. A closed fist swooped down dangerously from above, and Harry swung his wand above his head. He was picturing a shield, an unbreakable, impassable shield, and as his thoughts merged with his magic, a dome of fiery wrath surrounded him. His world shook as the giant's fist collided with the solid sphere of fire.

Harry swung his wand outwards and the dome exploded. Shrapnel of solid fire assaulted the giant's weathered skin. It caused no actual damage to the magic resistant creature, but the bright light blinded the giant further, causing it to howl in irritation. Harry turned to face the Death Eaters, and saw a purple light speeding towards him. He didn't have time to move, didn't even have time to scream, and so he could only stare in shock when a blur of rustic orange jumped past him, directly into the ominous violet light. The pup hit the ground moments later. Looking at the motionless body, it was obvious. He was dead.

The Death Eaters didn't let Harry mourn however. Another one raised his wand, and the deadly curse was on the tip of his tongue.

"_Avada Keda-,_" The man's voice was cut off as a two foot long wooden shaft caved into his head. It tore through one of his ruby red mask eyes, and his real eye inside the mask burst outwards, pierced by the metallic tip of the shaft. The Death Eater collapsed to the ground, his head making a gruesome squelch as the shaft lodged in his head dug into the ground, and tore through more flesh.

There was no time for Harry to gape though. The giant had recovered from its episode of blindness and was once again looming over Harry, its fist tightened in anger. It raised one hand above his head, and then brought it down, as if it were about to hammer Harry into the ground.

"Get 'im, Fluffy!" A familiar voice bellowed, and as Harry stared at his impending doom, all he could think of was, what the hell was Fluffy?

Thundering footsteps rumbled the ground from behind Harry, and before he could turn his head, a ten foot tall, three headed dog was leaping over his body. The dog's middle head opened its jaws, revealing a line of jagged, vicious teeth, before clamping itself around the giant's neck. The giant stumbled backwards as the weight of the cerberus knocked it back. The dog's front paws dug into the giant's gut and left long, jagged claw marks, causing the giant to howl, silently, in pain. The silencing charm was still in effect.

Fluffy's right head growled menacingly, and when the giant raised his fist to strike the middle head, the left head lunged onto the massive forearm, clenching down with its teeth until the sound of a bone the width of a tree snapped.

"Get down 'Arry!" Hagrid shouted, and Harry instinctively dropped to his chest, just as a sickening display of colour shot above him. Hagrid roared, his black eyes wide and furious as his giant blood began boiling within him, and charged at the nearest Death Eater. The man didn't flinch however, and instead began calmly waving his wand, muttering a cluster of enchantments. Before Hagrid could reach the man and snap his neck, transfigured black bears rose up from the forest foliage and interrupted his charge.

Macnair and the remaining Death Eater turned their wands on Hagrid, aiming to kill the man while he was distracted, but taking advantage of the distraction, Harry, still laying on the ground, whipped his wand around and jabbed it at Macnair.

"Leave him alone!" Harry screamed as a blazing lance of fire erupted from the tip of his wand and flung towards Macnair. Macnair twisted at the last moment, avoiding a fatal strike, but the lance seared into his left shoulder, and in an instant his left arm was burnt to an unusable crisp. The blackened, charred remains were interrupted only by the yellow stained glimpses of bone that could now be seen beneath the burnt flesh.

The remaining Death Eater had managed to fire off the sickly green killing curse at Hagrid, who was still grappling with the two magical bears, but a sudden eruption of plant life rose up from the ground into the sky, shielding him from the curse. Harry saw Neville, both hands planted on the ground, panting heavily, with sweat dripping down his forehead from the exertion of controlling the plants.

The Death Eater turned to curse Neville, but three consecutive pistons of light shot towards his flank, and he was forced to turn and face Ginny as she stepped out of the darkness and into the moonlight. Her red hair glistened wondrously in the pearly light as it whipped to and fro. She screamed out the names of the curses as they left her wand, causing her cheeks to redden with rage and exertion.

Harry turned back to his duel with Macnair. He had recovered from the pain in his now useless left arm, and was sending curse after curse at Harry, who was forced to duck and roll. With a swipe of his redwood wand he sent a blazing runway of flames towards Macnair, who in turn transfigured the ground beneath him to rise in order to avoid the torrent of flames. Harry then sent two more crackling spears of flames towards Macnair, but he had transfigured the base of his wand into a wicked scythe. Macnair whipped the murderous weapon around his body, slicing into both spears of fire and dissolving them.

A whimper of pain, accompanied simultaneously by a roar or irritation and a bark of rage caused Harry to dive out of the way as Fluffy came crashing into the ground. His left head was nursing a broken jaw and there was froth foaming at the mouth, but his other two heads were fine, albeit furious. The giant on the other hand looked terrible. It was bleeding freely from a wound in his neck, blood pooled at his feet as it rushed out of his gut, and his left arm hung limply, as jagged tooth marks suggested broken bones in several locations.

Fluffy charged at the giant, this time aiming for the feet. The two good heads wrapped around the giant's left ankle, snapping it. At the same time, the giant kicked out with its right foot, catching the giant dog in the chest, causing all three heads to wince in pain as several ribs broke. Unfortunately, the giant was now standing on only its broken ankle, and it began its slow, but inevitable descend to the ground. With the shadow of the giant looming over them, Harry sprinted backwards, while Macnair pointed his wand at the ground, and shot himself like a cannonball to safety

The giant hit the ground, and the silencing charms finally fell. The forest shook as the earthquake like vibrations rippled outwards. The giant could be heard howling in pain, but Harry paid it no heed as he clambered upon it, desperately avoiding the curses Macnair was launching at him. Harry ducked behind one of the giant's thighs, the magic resistant skin proving to be effective cover. Macnair clambered upon the giant's stomach, slipping and sliding as the red giant blood pooled out and slicked the surface, and Harry and Macnair began trading spells as they clambered across the giant in agony.

Fluffy leapt on the downed monster and grappled with its throat. The giant roared in pain, and began thrashing its limbs, causing Harry and Macnair to fight in a similar fashion as if on a bouncy castle. One of the thrashing limbs crashed into the one of the bears that Hagrid was wrestling. Taking advantage of the other bear's distraught, Hagrid grabbed one his crossbow shafts and plunged it into the neck, causing blood to spurt out like a sprinkler.

The Death Eater controlling them realized their demise, and banished them, but he realized his mistake immediately. Without the cover of the animals Hagrid's crossbow was pointed directly at him. He tried to cast a shielding charm, but the mechanical weapon was faster, and an instant later a shaft was jutting out of the Death Eater's chest, crushing his heart.

The tremors that the giant was creating caused Ginny to stumble, and a particular bludgeoning hex caught her in the head, knocking her unconscious. Neville ran towards her, but the Death Eater cackled, and cast a cruciatus curse at him. Knowing there was no magical way to defend against an unforgivable, Neville did the only thing that came to mind. He threw his wand at the incoming torture spell. The two collided in midair, and Neville's inherited wand split into two, long useless strands.

The Death Eater began cackling at his victory, and faced the unarmed boy. Neville simply grinned however. He was far from defenceless. He raised his hands forwards, and his palms became encased in a soft red glow.

"_Stupefy!_" He yelled, and the red light spread across his palms, lingered at his fingertips for just a moment before firing out twinjets of light from each hand. The Death Eater barely avoided the stunning spells, and had no time to return fire as Neville began a barrage of incapacitating spells.

A loud, gurgling roar resounded throughout the clearing as the giant took its last breath. Its limbs flailed frantically, but the combined power of two of Fluffy's heads decapitated the behemoth. It's final flailing sent Macnair and Harry tumbling into each other. Macnair, with one arm, awkwardly swung his scythe at Harry's neck, but a bulging giant muscle caused Macnair to rise up, and the scythe swished above Harry's head. Harry, seeing his chance, grabbed the thrown knife that was still lodged in Macnair's good shoulder and yanked it downwards, ripping through skin from shoulder to elbow.

Macnair dropped the scythe in pain, but before Harry could react he was kneed in the chest. Harry keeled over, and Macnair yanked the dagger out of his ruined arm and held it over above his head, ready to swing it down.

"_Accio knife!_" Neville shouted, and the weapon was torn out of Macnair's grip. It swished and swung through the air, shimmering in the moonlight, until it smashed into the back of Neville's opponent. His opponent's chest popped forwards as he stretched his back in pain, and then he fell to the ground dead, the knife still lodged firmly in his back.

When the knife was torn from Macnair's grip he stumbled on the giant's body, slipping off the chest. He tried to scramble to his feet, but Harry launched himself off of the giant's bicep, and came crashing down, knee first, into Macnair's chest. Ribs cracked as Harry hit the ground, and Macnair tried to scream out in pain, but Harry clamped his palm around the man's face.

"Burn," Harry whispered venomously, and the blazing fire spread from his palm to Macnair's body. The black Death Eater robes burned away, and even the mask melted into an oozing substance. The skin of Macnair's face was visible for just a moment before his whole body lit up in ravenous flames. The man's flailing finally stopped, and Harry kicked the body far away from himself, feeling sick.

He glanced around at the clearing. Although thirty minutes ago it would have been a blood free, bodiless, beautiful clearing, it now resembled nothing but a battlefield. Broken trees littered the ground, which was died a deep crimson from the blood that had been spilt.

"Are yeh alrigh' 'Arry?" a voice asked, and Harry spun around to see Hagrid, his moleskin coat ripped into shreds, but otherwise unharmed.

"Yeah," Harry said despondently, "Yeah, I'm fine." He wasn't though, and Hagrid picked up on it.

"No yer not, yeh just killed a man. A pitiful excuse fer a man, but a man nonetheless. No one's fine after tha'."

"I hate this, Hagrid," Harry admitted, "I hate the fire that resides inside me. It only leads to death and destruction. I hate it! I don't want to live with it anymore."

"An' wha' abou' me 'arry? Hagrid asked. "Do I look like I wan' teh live with being a half-gian'? O' course no'. Bu' it's who I am. There ain't no changin' tha'. Nothin' yeh can change."

"Then what do I do, Hagrid?" Harry asked desperately, looking up at the bearded man. His beetle black eyes were no longer wide and bloodthirsty, but kind and gentle.

"Yeh learn to live with it. Yeh go to Hogwarts, an' yeh learn how to control yer powers."

Harry didn't reply. He didn't want to. He didn't want to go back to Hogwarts. He hated the looks he received from everyone. He hated how everyone loved his brother, and how no one loved him. He hated how people looked at him in fear. It wasn't fair. Harry's eyes drifted across the battlefield and fell on rustic orange dead body of the pup. Nothing was fair.

Harry crawled over to the dead fox and cradled it in his arms. Its blue eyes were closed, but Harry recognized the mismatched coloured ears; one orange, and one blood splattered white. He felt like crying, but the tears wouldn't come. It wasn't fair. Nothing was fair.

Harry felt his fingers tingling as he wrapped his arms around the fox, its body still warm in its lingering death. He stared at the pup. There wasn't a single wound on its body. The death had been internal. He looked like he would open his eyes at any moment, and bark playfully. But he wouldn't. He was dead. If only the pup's heart could beat.

Flames licked the edges of Harry's fingers, but he didn't care. He held onto the fox and let the flames seep through the fur. The rustic orange soaked up the fire, and the body began glowing. The flames around Harry's hand turned pure white, and the next instant fox and man were alight in star like fire. Harry willed the flames to beat, beat like the beating of a heart.

The white fire surrounding the two shuddered, and then jumped. Again, it shuddered, and then jumped. The flames pulsed down upon the two, creating soft, audible thumps. The thumps of a heart beat.

_Ba-bump._

Harry flinched as he felt a beat from within his arms.

_Ba-bump._

It wasn't his imagination. The fox's heart was pumping again. The white flames faded away, leaving not even a scorch mark on the ground. Harry stared at the fox, waiting for the heart to beat without the flames.

_Ba-bump._

The pup blearily opened his right eye, and a sapphire blue orb peeked out at Harry. It opened its jaws in a massive yawn, before nestling itself deeper into his arms.

"H-harry, you just brought him back to life." Ginny was once again conscious, and was staring at him in both fear and awe. Harry chuckled back to her.

"See, what'd I tell you. Magic can do anything," Harry said, grinning at her.

"Yeh can't bring the dead back teh life 'arry," Hagrid interrupted.

"Then what did I just do?" Harry asked indignantly.

"Yeh gave 'im a new heart," Hagrid explained. "Yeh not dead 'till yer brain dead. Yeh gave him a new heart of fire 'arry."

"I… what?"

"He's no longer a fox anymore. He's a new species. He's a firefox," Hagrid said this in astonishment. As if in response, the firefox coughed, and burst of flame left its mouth. "They're incredibly rare. Wizard's have been searching fer years on how they're born. Yer probably the first wizard in a thousan' years to see one."

"Yeh didn't bring 'im back to life 'arry, but yeh saved his life." Harry looked up at Hagrid and saw the big man smiling. "Are ye sure you don't wan' to go back to Hogwarts?"

"I don't know Hagrid. I don't belong there. No one wants me there," Harry admitted.

"Nonsense," Hagrid replied gruffly.

"We want you back Harry," Neville said quietly. He had been standing quietly until now. His eyes kept flickering to the dead body, to the body of the man he had killed.

"I-"

Ginny leapt forwards and wrapped her arms around him, smothering him. Her thin fingers gripped the back of his jacket with a surprising amount of strength, and she crushed her head against his chest.

"Please don't leave Harry," she said, her words muffled as she spoke into his chest, "I want you there." Harry could feel her sobs as her body wracked against his. He sighed heavily before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her even closer. Her head was tucked beneath his chin, and the strands of her chaotic fiery hair tickled his jaw.

"Well then," Harry said, grinning ruefully, "If you all insist, I guess I have no choice but to stay." Harry winced as Ginny's arms tightened around him even further. He hadn't thought that was possible.

"C'mon 'arry, give me a hand with Fluffy," Hagrid said, "Yeh sing to 'im, and I'll lead 'im back."

"Sing to it?" Harry asked.

"Don't ask, just sing to 'im for me," Hagrid said gruffly.

Harry disentangled himself from Ginny's vice grip, scooped up the sleeping firefox and nestled him on his shoulder. He turned towards Neville and clapped him on the shoulder. Neville smiled at him weakly, before turning away and heading back. Harry didn't really know what song to sing, so he picked the first one that came to mind.

_Where you once were_

_Standing and smiling for_

_Me, who's here, you left_

_But kept your_

_Fingers wrapped around_

_My heart, I'll sing for you_

_if you sing for me,_

_We won't forget that_

_Where you once were_

_Standing and smiling for…_

Together they all marched back to Hogwarts. Not once throughout the whole walk did Harry let go of Ginny's hand.

* * *

**Someone asked in a review where that little song came from. I made it, for this story. There's a nice little piano melody that goes with it too, but I don't have any recording equipment outside my laptop, so I'm not going to torture you guys with horrible screeching sounds.**

**Anyway, read and enjoy.**

**Cheers**

**-Council**


	17. The Fox

Dumbledore stood silently in the middle of the blood soaked clearing. Dead bodies littered the floor, ranging from foxes to Death Eaters to a giant. It all looked rather horrible, but Albus knew that the gruesome massacre was actually a blessing. If the Death Eaters were still alive, they would have definitely accomplished their goal.

Albus felt himself shiver, even though the early morning sun was casting its warm rays upon him. Such a small assault force would usually have been useless against Hogwart's powerful defences. However, Hogwart's outer defences were not physical, they were magical. If one were to destroy the spiked, metal, entrance gate encompassing the school grounds, all the protective charms laid upon those gates would vanish.

Of course, the steel fence was not feeble in the slightest. No human would have the sheer strength to even bend the metal spokes. Any destructive spells used on the gates would be nullified by the magical protections. Therefore, the only way to destroy the gate would be through physical means. Something that Albus hadn't imagined possible, until he saw the dead, mauled, broken body of the sixteen foot giant. It would only have taken a single blow from that creature, and Hogwart's first line of defence would have fallen.

Dumbledore sighed, and shook his head slowly. He would have to thank Hagrid for stopping this advance. When the half-giant had come bursting into his office, blabbering on about an attack, Albus had been skeptical. For the past few weeks, especially since Harry Potter had arrived at the school, Albus had been losing his trust in his once most faithful supporter.

However, it was clear to Albus that he had made a mistake. He should not have doubted his allies when the enemies were so close to his home. Hagrid was a good man, who fought for the right ideals, or at least, Albus's ideals. Dumbledore would have to apologize, and then thank Hagrid for his efforts tonight.

Albus smiled up at the gently fading sunrise. It would be a humbling experience for him, to apologize, but he found that he didn't seem too much. He had been missing his old drinking buddy.

* * *

Harry opened up his bleary eyes, and blinked sleepily as he stared at the splendid wooden roof. It was strange, he thought to himself, but he couldn't recall having ever woken up underneath this particular ceiling. Harry next became aware of the discomfort on his back, and that the mattress he was sleeping on was not very soft. In fact, as Harry fidgeted around, trying to get more comfortable, it wasn't a mattress he was lying on, but rather a thin rug over a solid wooden floor.

He yawned as he tried to recall what he was doing lying on the ground. He groaned as the memories the fight rushed back to him. His chest still hurt from where Macnair had kneed him, but Harry couldn't really complain. At least he wasn't burnt to a crisp.

The fight still didn't explain what he was doing on the ground though. He glanced to the side of the room, to where a cheerful looking fireplace stood. It was lacking any fire at the moment, but the rustic remains of last night's flames breathed gently.

"Pixie sticks…" A voice on Harry's other side murmured. He turned his head to face the voice, and couldn't help but smile as he looked up at Ginny Weasley, sprawled on the sofa above him, as he lay on the floor. Her pretty strands of red hair were sprawled chaotically around the armrest like a strewn out halo.

"Mum, please, can I just have a few," Ginny murmured again, and Harry's smile grew larger as he realized she was sleep talking. As much as he enjoyed watching her sleep however, Harry felt himself becoming rather self-conscious of his actions, and decided it would probably be best if they headed to their respective dormitories. Why were they sleeping down in the common room anyway?

Harry tried to roll away, and he found his answer. His right hand was being gripped firmly by Ginny's smaller hands as she slept. His shoulder ached from the unusual position his arm had been in all night, but he found he didn't really mind. Last night, once they had returned to the common room, and Neville had bid them night, a haunted expression on his face as memories of the duel played in his mind, Ginny had begged Harry to stay with her, just for a little while.

She wouldn't explain it to Harry, but she had been having particular nightmares that were scaring her, scaring her more than the usual nightmares. Harry didn't know what to do to help her, so he had simply talked to her, and told her stories of his past. It was in the middle of one particular exciting story, when Harry was forced to flee a village, being chased by the local farmers after accidently scaring a field of cows, that her head finally slumped, and she was asleep.

All that time, Ginny had yet to let go of Harry's hand, and even in her sleep, she gripped at it as if it were her lifeline. Not wanting to wake her up, Harry had slid off the couch, laid himself on the ground, and allowed himself to fall asleep beside her, just for a while.

However, it was now sunrise, as he could see through the expansive glass windows of the Gryffindor common room, and students would be waking at any moment, and Harry really didn't want to be discovered like this. He reluctantly decided to wake Ginny, and grinning, he poked her in the cheek.

"Stop it mum, I don't like him anymore," Ginny murmured. Harry frowned, and poked her again, a little harder.

"You'll buy me a pixie stick, won't you…" Harry groaned. Out of everything Ginny had to be, she was a deep sleeper. Deciding that if she wasn't going to wake, he might as well drop her off in her own bed, he scooped her up into his arms and pressed her body against his chest. Harry froze for a moment as he waited for her to wake up from his jostling movements.

"More pixie sticks please," Ginny slurred in her sleep, and Harry chuckled. He made his way to the spiraling staircase that led to the girls dormitory, and began the trek up to the sixth year's floor. Harry had only reached the tenth step when the stairs beneath his feet disappeared, and was replaced with a slippery, polished marble slide. He swore as he came crashing downwards, Ginny slipping from his grip as he hit the marble slide. His arms stretched out to grab Ginny before she slid away from him, and together they rolled back down to the common room.

"Bloody hell, what was that?" Harry said, groaning as he felt new bruises developing on his body.

"H-Harry?" A voice from beneath him squeaked, and Harry opened his eyes, glanced down, and blushed as he saw Ginny's flustered face inches from his own. His body was pinning hers to the ground as a result of the fall. Harry tried to tell himself to move, but his body wouldn't obey. He could feel Ginny's body pressed firmly against his as he leaned against her. One of his arms was braced above her head, keeping his face raised above hers.

Ginny also remained motionless, except for the rise and fall of her chest as heavy, flustered breaths of air escaped her mouth and teased Harry's lips. Her freckled face was touched with flushes of red, and her fiery hair was a sprawled mess around her. She looked so defenceless beneath Harry, and he wanted nothing more than to lean in, and taste her parted, red lips as her intoxicating breaths left her mouth.

Ginny squirmed beneath Harry's body as she tried to make herself more comfortable, but her sudden movement jolted Harry's consciousness, and he immediately pulled back and rolled off of her body. He lay beside her, trying to calm his rapid heart beat.

"S-sorry," Harry stammered. "You were sleeping, and I was trying to take you back to your dorm, but then suddenly the stairs disappeared and we fell and we were… uh…" Harry's voice broke off as he became too embarrassed to continue. He had just been about to take advantage of a fallen girl. He was such a pervert. What would she think of him?

Ginny's giggling interrupted his thoughts, and he turned his head to face her. "Boys aren't allowed in the girl's dormitory, you must have set off the alarm, and it activated its security measures." Harry groaned. He hadn't known that something like that existed, but he should have guessed there'd be some sort of security to protect the girls.

"Thanks for all of your hard work Harry, but I think it's best if I go by myself from here on," Ginny said as she pulled herself to her feet, and Harry quickly followed suit.

"Listen Ginny, I'm sorry about-" Harry's apology was cut off when Ginny leaned in, stood on her toes, and pressed her lips against his cheek.

"Thank you for tonight Harry," she said as she pulled away.

"Anytime," Harry said, a smile spreading on his face. Ginny smiled shyly at him, and turned away, as if to head back to her dorm, but she seemed to be fighting something inside her.

"Can we go out tonight?" Ginny blurted out, before blushing, and trying to correct herself. "I mean, can we hang out tonight, after dinner, not go out, I meant just spending time with each other…" Her voice trailed off in embarrassment.

"I'd love to," Harry said, smiling easily at her, before raising my hand and flicking her gently in the forehead. "Now, hurry up and go to bed before you wake the house."

"You're the one who set off the alarm and went crashing down the stairwell," Ginny teased. "If anyone's to blame for waking up the house, it's you."

Harry was about to reply when the sound of heavy footsteps tumbled down the boy's staircase, accompanied by loud yawns. Harry and Ginny both froze as Ron came into sight, dressed in his red and gold Quidditch uniform with a broomstick slung over his shoulder. Ron also froze when he got to the bottom step, and stared at Harry and Ginny. Harry braced himself for the famous big brother Weasley outburst, but it never came.

"You're up even earlier than me for Quidditch training? That's determination right there Gin, you'll make captain for sure next year," Ron said, pride in his voice. "However, you should try wearing your uniform for practices, instead of those regular clothes, it makes you look even more motivated."

"O-oh, yeah. That's a good point Ron," Ginny stammered nervously. "I think I'll go do that right now. Change into my uniform, I mean, I'll be back down in a minute," and without another word Ginny bolted up the stairs. Harry resisted the temptation to place his foot on the first step, and send her sliding back down. Instead, Harry decided to create his early morning excuse.

"I've never seen Quidditch played before, so I thought I'd wake up early and watch you practice," Harry lied, praying Ron would believe him.

"You've never watched Quidditch before! Bloody hell mate, come along. After practice I'll even give you a go on my broom. If you're even half as good as your brother I bet I could get you on the team."

Suddenly Harry felt that his lie was turning into something bad. He had no intention in playing Quidditch, but he couldn't exactly say that now.

"Yeah, that would be great!" Harry lied enthusiastically. Ron grinned excitedly, and was about to launch into a tirade about the greatness of Quidditch, when Ginny, along with two other girl players, burst into the common room. Not a moment later Dean, Ryan, and Seamus came strolling down the boy's staircase, broomsticks in hand.

"Excellent, everyone's ready. Down to the pitch, double time," Ron ordered, and the team hastily, yet somewhat clumsily as it was still early morning, clambered out of the portrait hole. Harry suddenly realized how tired he was, and how much he didn't want to go watch Quidditch at this goddamned awful hour, but Ron slung an arm around Harry's neck and guided him to the exit.

"Now," Ron said, with an easy going grin on his face that belied the threat in his words, "If you want to keep seeing my sister in the morning, I suggest you join my team. I've been looking for a reserve player for a while now, and I can't think of much better than another Potter."

Harry paled as Ron continued to drag him down to the pitch. Why had he ever tried to lie in the first place?

Unbeknownst to any of the players, a rustic brown fox stepped out of the empty fireplace, embers dripping off its body as it stretched its back, and began searching for his man-friend who had saved him.

* * *

Harry grumbled every step of the way to the great hall, while Ron whistled cheerfully beside him. Quidditch training had gone rather well, or at least that's what Ron had told him. All Harry really knew was that he had watched seven red and gold blurs fly around an oval pitch for an hour and a half. The whole time he had wished for nothing but to crawl back to his bed and sleep the day away. He was exhausted, having barely had two hours of sleep last night.

Harry didn't understand how Ginny had flown. Surely she was as exhausted as he was. It wasn't until she landed, and Harry got a good look at her face that he understood. She was struggling to stay awake just as much as he was.

As the team had headed off to the changing rooms, Ron had dragged Harry to the pitch, pushed him onto his comet 260, and told him he wasn't allowed breakfast until he flew three laps of the pitch. Harry silently admitted to himself that if he weren't so tired, he may have actually enjoyed the flight, however, as it was, he spent the whole flight grumbling.

Now the two boys were rushing to the great hall to grab breakfast before the first class of the day started. They were already running late because of Quidditch practice, but their extra flight at the end meant they were incredibly late. Ron had even skipped a shower, and was still dressed in his sweat soaked sport robes.

"Say, don't you think the great hall sounds noisier than usual?" Harry asked Ron, who was still whistling a merry tune. There seemed to be a lot of raised voices and rumbling from the other side of the large wooden doors.

"Nah, it's just breakfast time. Everyone gets a little rowdy when they're hungry," Ron said, before pushing open the doors. Harry could only stare at the pandemonium that was occurring. Students were running away from the wooden breakfast tables that were covered in a crackling fire. The professors were trying to regain control of the students by amplifying their voices, but this only further caused the students to panic and scream.

"See," Ron said, not in the least shocked, "They're just hungry. I get like this all the time."

Any comment Harry was about to make was cut off when a ball of flaming fur leapt into chest, causing him to stumble backwards. Harry glanced down at the flaming creature, and grinned when mischievous blue eyes stared back up at him.

Instantly, the great hall froze, and hundreds of fearful eyes turned on Harry. Harry raised an eyebrow at the observers. It was obvious that they were still scared of him after his duel with Ryan. It had only been two days ago, so it was understandable, but it didn't make Harry feel any better.

"Mr. Potter!" Professor McGonagall called, her voice no longer amplified, as the hall was now relatively silent. "Would you please tell us why that creature is hiding in your arms?"

Harry glanced around the hall, and began to piece together what had happened. The panicking students, the sporadic fires around the room, the fearful glances directed at the firefox.

"Probably because he's my familiar," Harry said simply, causing everyone the great hall to take a step back.

"Mr. Potter, you are aware that a firefox has not been seen for nearly a century," McGonagall asked.

"Er, yeah, I think Hagrid mentioned something like that," Harry said, and everyone turned to stare at Hagrid, who blushed sheepishly at being the centre of attention.

"Well then, I will have to address this issue with the headmaster, but for now, can you please control your familiar. As you can see, he was causing quite a disturbance during breakfast."

"Don't worry professor, he's harmless," Harry said, and ignoring the tense atmosphere, walked over to the Gryffindor, eager for food. Ron followed, even more eager for food and completely oblivious to the atmosphere.

"Don't worry, he's harmless," Ron mimicked before laughing, "You sound just like Hagrid, you know that?"

"Oh shut up," Harry replied, and Ron just laughed further. Before the boys could even start gathering food, Hermione walked over, a serious expression on her face. By now, most the students in the great hall had recovered from the morning entertainment, and were getting ready for class.

"Where did you find it?" Hermione demanded, staring at Harry. Harry raised his eyebrows at her rather curt way of asking a question.

"He has a name," Harry replied, and as if in affirmation, the fox in his lap barked once.

"And it is?" Hermione asked, eager to ask what she believed to be more important questions. Harry glanced down at the pup with absolutely no idea what to name him. The pup glanced back up with its bright blue eyes, and as if reading Harry's thoughts, gave him a sly wink. Of course, he was a firefox, and therefore there was only one name appropriate for such a creature.

"Chrome," Harry said, "His name is Chrome." Hermione practically spluttered.

"You can't be serious," she said, hope in her voice that he was joking.

"Well, Chrome, am I serious?" Harry asked the pup, who barked again in affirmation, before clambering up the table in an effort to reach Harry's face and lick his cheek.

"Well, there's your answer," Harry said to Hermione, between bursts of laughter as Chrome attacked his face with its rough tongue.

"Where did you find him though?" Hermione asked, honestly curious about the discovery of a long lost species. Harry was saved from answering however when Ron mentioned that class was starting. Hermione wasted no time grabbing her book bag and fleeing the great hall.

"Thank god she's gone," Harry groaned.

"You can say that again," Ron agreed, before reaching over to scoop some up some scrambled eggs. That was, until the food in front of him disappeared, signaling that breakfast had ended and classes had begun.

"No!" Ron shouted, before letting his head collapse onto the now empty table. "Maybe I should skip transfigurations and sneak into the kitchens," he mused.

"I think not, Weasley. In fact, class started two minutes ago. Should I be giving you detention?" A stern voice said from behind, causing Ron to jump in his seat, his head swinging upwards.

"Of course not, Professor. I was just joking, honest," Ron said quickly, apologizing to professor MgGonagall.

"Now, I heard there was Quidditch practice this morning, am I right?" Ron nodded. "Well then, I think I'll take a quick detour to the staff room. It appears that I may be five minutes late to class at this rate. If you get to class before me, I'll never know if you were late or not, isn't that right?"

"Thank you Professor," Ron said, and McGonagall gave him a small, but warm smile, before exiting the great hall. As soon as she was gone Ron collapsed back onto the table.

"But I'm so hungry. I can't go to class like this. Harry, what am I supposed to do?" Harry didn't reply, as he had no answer. Despite McGonagall's act of kindness, Harry still felt an urge to skip, and go sneak into the kitchen's, as Ron had suggested.

"Weasley!" A voice from behind them snapped, and once again Ron jumped up in his seat.

"Yes Professor! I'm sorry Professor! I'll be going to class Profess-" Ron turned around to face Padma, who was struggling to hold back her laughter.

"So I heard you were hungry?" Padma asked, a devious smile on the Ravenclaw's face.

"Yes," Ron said slowly, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Well, I just happened to save a few slices of toast from the breakfast table," Padma said, pulling her hand out from behind her back, and revealing a small stack of toast. "It's just that I can't eat anymore, and I'm thinking of throwing them away. What do you think I should do, Ronald?"

By this point, Harry was also struggling not to laugh. Ron was practically drooling as he stared at the stack of toast in her hands. Ron was enraptured, and Padma knew it.

"Padma, you wouldn't want to waste that food, would you," Ron said, his voice soothing. "Wouldn't it be much better if you gave it to me." Padma grinned at him, and Harry wondered just how Ron had corrupted the Ravenclaw prefect to become so mischievous.

Ron lunged out of his seat as he made a futile grab for the bread, but Padma skipped backwards gracefully, before laughing her pleasant, chiming laughter and running out of the great hall.

"Catch me if you can, Ronald!" She cried, and Ron ran after her, laughing the whole while. Watching the red head in his dirty Quidditch robes chase the slender, Indian prefect so happily out of the room, Harry couldn't help but wonder if food was truly the only thing on Ron's mind at that moment.

* * *

"Potter!" Snape bellowed from across the classroom.

"Yes Professor," Harry replied sheepishly from behind a hearth of flames.

"Can you tell me why your potion is on fire?"

The class snickered as Harry refrained from setting something, or rather someone on fire. Ryan, in particular, was laughing the loudest.

"No Professor, I can't. I was following the instructions right up to step six, and then when I waved my wand three times clockwise the potion lit up."

"I see," Snape drawled, irritation clear in his voice. "Detention tonight Potter. You can clean up the mess you made."

"Yes Professor," Harry said politely. He had no need to be angry with Professor Snape. After all, it hadn't been the professor, but Harry who had lit the potion on fire. Snape continued to stare at Harry, as if awaiting for an outburst, but when none came, he silently stalked away.

As Harry packed his stuff away, he couldn't help but feel depressed. Out of all the nights to receive a detention, it had to be on the night he had a date with Ginny. Well, not quite a date, it was just hanging out together, but he'd have done anything to go.

Therefore when class was dismissed Harry remained behind to attempt what no Gryffindor had ever accomplished; to reschedule one's detention. Harry walked calmly up to the professor, who was storing the class's concoctions for that lesson. He was giving the initial marks to the students just by examining the colour of the liquid within the vials.

"What is it, Potter," Snape drawled, his back faced to Harry.

"Well sir, I was wondering," Harry began, but Snape interrupted him.

"If it's about the detention, Potter, do not think I will reconsider it."

"Of course sir, I set fire to my own potion, it's only natural for me to be at fault." Snape turned around to stare at Harry, as if to determine whether Harry was being genuine or sarcastic. Deciding on the former, Snape decided to humour him.

"Well Professor, I was wondering if you had a theory on know why I continue to set my potions on fire," Harry asked, honestly curious. It wasn't the original question he had come to ask, but it was a good introductory probe.

"It is because you are a terrible wizard," Snape replied simply before turning back to the potions on display, "Is what I would have said one week ago, before you displayed any talent whatsoever. However, after your duel with your brother, despite your…. barbaric methods," Snape said, dragging each word out slowly.

"You appear to be a somewhat capable wizard." Harry was thankful that Snape's back was turned to him, as at that point he couldn't hold back a grin. The supposedly cold-hearted Snape had just complimented him. Harry's grin faded when he realized that no one would ever believe him.

"Your problem is that you are a capable wizard with no control. You are trying to light a match with a bonfire. It accomplishes your goal, but is astoundingly inefficient. When you wave your wand to concoct your potion, the same happens. You have no control, so your magic spills into the potion, ruining it." Snape turned to face Harry, his face serious.

"Never confuse strength for power, Potter. You could set a whole forest ablaze with your ability in order to kill one man. I could slit his throat with a nail file. Strength isn't power. Power is knowing how to use one's strength."

"Now, if that is all, you are excused."

"Actually Professor," Harry began, already fretting the answer, "I was wondering if I could serve my detention now, during my lunch break instead of tonight."

Snape's empty, black eyes bored into Harry's, and it took all of Harry's willpower to not flinch or look away. Finally, Snape seemed appeased with what he saw, and gave Harry a curt nod.

"Very well, but do not utter a word, and do not dare to disturb me anymore than you already have."

Harry turned around before his wide smile would give him away. He was tired, he had been hungry and now he was even hungrier, but that didn't matter. He was still going to meet Ginny tonight.

* * *

Ginny had eyed the Gryffindor table for any sign of Harry, but he appeared to be absent, so she instead chose to sit with one of the only other few people she felt comfortable around, her brother.

"Hey Ron," Ginny said, collapsing into the seat beside him in a slump. Her lack of sleep, combined with the exhausting Quidditch practice had worn her out completely.

"Hey Gin, you haven't seen Harry have you?" Ron replied in between mouthfuls of lamb.

"No, I was just about to ask you the same thing," she said, reaching out to the food in front of her. She was too tired to be hungry, but she knew she had to keep eating or her earlier Quidditch practice would drain her. She had just started on her sandwich when Ryan and Hermione sat down next to her and Ron.

"Ginny, are you alright? You look terrible," Ryan asked, concerned.

"Thanks," Ginny snapped back, her irritation getting the better of her.

"Eh, sorry, I didn't mean it that way," Ryan said apologetically. On the other side of the table, it looked like Ron and Hermione were having a conversation as enjoyable as Ginny and Ryan's.

"Anyway guys, I really wanted to tell you something," Ryan said, and everyone perked up. Even Ginny wanted to hear what he had to say. "Recently I've finished my animagus transformation-" Ryan was cut off when Ron and Hermione congratulated him. "Thanks, but that's now why I'm telling you. Now that I can transform, I realize how useful of an ability it is, and I thought I'd try teaching you. How does that sound?"

"Oh, that sounds wonderful," Hermioned gushed.

"That would be pretty wicked," Ron agreed, his eyes glazing over as he thought of the possibilities. Ginny didn't say anything, but she had to admit that the prospect of becoming an animagus was certainly appealing.

"When would we start?" Hermione asked, always the eager one.

"Tonight, right after dinner," Ryan said, "The sooner the better. I've already got the potions ready, so everything's set."

"Awesome, I'm free," Ron said happily.

"Ron! No you're not, you have Snape's potion essay to complete," Hermione reprimanded.

"As I said, I'm free," Ron said, merrily ignoring her.

"What about you, Ginny?" Ryan asked, his piercing emerald eyes staring at her hopefully. Once upon a time she would have caved in from such a look, but no longer.

"Sorry Ryan, I don't think it's best for me. Maybe once I graduate Hogwarts," Ginny lied. Ginny was already kicking herself for missing this opportunity, but all she could think of was her date with Harry. She mentally slapped herself. Not a date, just hanging out. If she were to accept the animagus training, then she wouldn't be able to see Harry tonight.

"Are you sure?" Ryan asked, almost desperately.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Ginny said, staring confidently back into the emerald eyes which were so familiar, yet surprisingly uncomfortable. They were the identical, and yet they weren't the same as Harry's eyes.

Ginny suppressed a yawn as she turned back to her food. She was exhausted, and disappointed about missing the animagus training, but she couldn't wait to meet Harry tonight.

* * *

"So, what do you want to do tonight then?" Harry asked Ginny as they left the great hall. It had been an exhausting day, but he had endured, and now he was able to spend the night with Ginny.

"Anything you want to do," the red head replied, stifling a yawn behind a hand at the end of her sentence.

"How about we go to the library then. I can teach you a Muggle card game I like," Harry suggested, and Ginny smiled at the mention of a game.

"I'd enjoy that," she replied, stepping closer towards Harry so that the backs of their hands would graze one another as they walked. They reached the library, greeted Madame Pince, and found a booth for themselves. Harry reached into his pockets and pulled out a deck of cards he had with him.

"So, do you know how to play…" Harry's voice died away as he spotted Ginny's head slumped against the study table. Her mouth was partly open in a soft "o", as she breathed her steady, but soft breaths of sleep. Harry only realized just how tense she had been before once he saw how relaxed she seemed now.

A strand of her entrancing red hair fell across her face, and tickled her lips as she breathed in. Harry leant one hand forwards, and gently tucked the wisp of hair behind her ear, gently stroking her cheek as he did so.

"I skipped breakfast, sacrificed lunch, and fought with Snape for you, and this is what I get," Harry said mockingly, but of course, Ginny didn't hear him.

"Oh well," He whispered, leaning forward so that, like Ginny, he was also slumped over the study desk, his head in his arms. "I guess this is also pretty nice, just sleeping here." Any more words were lost as his consciousness faded, and sleep stole over his mind.

* * *

**IN PRAISE OF CHROME THE FIREFOX, GO WATCH "THE FOX" BY YLVIS AND DANCE AND SING AND BE HAPPY! THAT IS ALL!**

**Cheers**

**- Council**


	18. Myosotis

Albus was not known as an impatient man, but nevertheless, he had never been so restless in his life as he had been the past fortnight. The days had dragged on, the twisting and bending shadows in his office swirling across the ground at a rate slower than the eye could see were all that occupied his mind. His thoughts were of nothing but the time, the crooked shadows, his duties as the headmaster of an educational facility, and of the identity of his familiar's murderer.

The scorched remains of Fawkes blistered his office floor, a scarring reminder of Albus's moment of weakness. Albus has invited the suspect into his office, and somehow, that suspect had overpowered him, obliviated his memory, and murdered his familiar, a Phoenix, a creature of the light. The suspect could only be someone as dark and mentally twisted as Tom Riddle to enact such a deed.

Albus withdrew his pocket watch, and with one weathered finger, he applied pressure to the small, golden knob, and allowed the hinges to flick open. Albus glanced at the time, and sighed when time had passed, but not time enough. He then glanced at the lid of the pocket watch, and sighed as he stared at the all too familiar photograph.

Two boys, barely teenagers, had their arms flung across one another's shoulders, each bearing immaculate grins on their faces. One boy looked at Albus with twinkling blue eyes, which aside from the innocence available only to the youth, was identical to his own. The other pair of blue eyes that stared at him was just as familiar to Albus as his own, but just as different. The narrower slant of the eyes, the nostalgic crinkles at the edge of each eye visible only when he smiled caused Albus to shudder.

"How did I ever lose you to the dark arts, my friend?" Albus asked the picture sadly, before snapping the watch shut with a practiced movement from his fingertips. He then glanced to the scorch marks blemishing the floor.

"And how did I ever lose you to the dark arts," Albus spoke softly, waiting for the comforting melody of the phoenix song that he would never hear again. He leaned his old body into the plush, splendid purple armchair, one of the few comforts he had left in his life, and waited. Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, leader of the Order of the Phoenix, and Supreme Mugwump had never felt so aged in his life then as he waited for Kahlan Joken to arrive.

* * *

The air around Sirius burst out in a ripple of displacement as his feet slammed into the frost covered cobblestone, his lungs heaving as a result of the apparation. Sirius sniffed the air, trying to sense whether he had arrived safely, but he quickly realized his human nose was not sensitive enough, and before a passerby could recognize the wanted wizard, he transformed into Padfoot.

Immediately, a barrage of scents assaulted his finely tuned nose, and his gums lifted up in an attempted smile as he recognized familiar scents. The crisp, early winter air chilled Padfoot, and he shivered, not just because of the cold, but because his family was in danger. The protective emotions he was feeling were only amplified once he had transformed into a hound, and he grew more nervous for his pack mate.

Allowing instincts to take over, Padfoot began to run, his paws pounding into the ground with each stride he took. For the past two weeks he had been searching for Kahlan. After what he had done to Dumbledore's mind and his familiar, Padfoot knew that the old man would be out for revenge. What was worse was that when Padfoot had been rummaging around in the old man's mind, he had discovered that he knew of the existence of Kahlan. If Dumbledore's memory were ever recovered, Kahlan would be the first one in danger.

However, after two weeks of fruitless searching, Padfoot had overheard some rather different, but shocking news. He didn't know how much time he had left. He had only recently overheard the news, and although the information was sketchy at best, he knew he had to be there.

It was a long, cold run to Hogwarts from Hogsmeade, but Padfoot didn't stop once. His pack was in danger, and it was his responsibility to help them.

* * *

The fireplace roared in a brilliant charade of green flames that pleasantly announced the arrival of Kahlan Joken. Pockets of ash were flung up in the air, and swirled around her straight, raven hair that cascaded down past her chest. She eyed the circular office surreptitiously, her intelligent sky blue eyes flickering to the various obscure trinkets. Albus could tell that she recognized every single one.

"How are you this evening, Ms. Joken?" Albus asked politely, gesturing for het to sit on the guest seat. Despite his earlier eagerness for her arrival, the moment she arrived he had quickly bottled up those emotions, and replaced them with his calm persona.

"I am well, Mr. Dumbledore," Kahlan replied in an equally calm voice. She lowered herself into the guest chair, looking completely at ease, and yet ready for business.

"Please, no one calls me Mr. Dumbledore," Albus said, a smile gracing his face at her words.

"Then what shall I call you, Mr. Supreme Mugwump Headmaster Warlock?" She replied in grace. Albus stared into her forget-me-not blue eyes, but unless he was to release a tendril of legilimency, he was unable to tell if she were making fun of him or not.

"Albus will be just fine, my dear," he eventually replied. Considering this was the witch who was an expert in mind magic, and was here to recover Albus's lost memories, he reasoned attacking her mind with legilimency was unwise.

"Now then Albus, I am here because you wished to recover obliviated memories, a task too delicate and precise for the healers at St. Mungos, correct?"

"That is correct," Albus said, agreeing.

"Well then, the process doesn't take an awfully long time, five minutes at the most, however, as per the law I am required to detail the conditions. Also," she paused, only to withdraw a stack of documents magically hidden within her darkened robes, "You will need to fill in and sign this here, here and here. Is that understood?" There was a significant pause as Albus eyed the numerous sleeves of parchment.

"Would you care for a lemon drop?" Albus finally asked her as he reached for the stack of papers.

* * *

Padfoot slunk through the metallic, midnight gates that crackled with an ominous magical output that kept at bay both dark creatures and those bearing dark marks. The moon had begun to rise high into the sky, lighting the rime coated grass in its magnificent, frosty glow.

Padfoot didn't pause to admire the scenery however. He had spent countless sleepless nights parading these very ground with his best friends. The sight was beautiful, but redundant. As of now, Padfoot had more urgent matters to attend to.

He galloped past the smoky, wooden hut, refusing to respond to the barks of the tamed boarhound, and towards the splendid, stone castle, lined with cheery, torch-lit windows, and adorned with jutting spires. Once Padfoot arrived at the formidable wooden entrance doors, he paused, and his shaggy ears perked up, listening attentively for any foreign sounds.

Appeased that no one was watching him, Padfoot began transforming out of his body. His limbs grew in thickness and length, while his spine began bending backwards, allowing his neck to rise above the ground. The black, shaggy fur around his body was pulled and squelched into his skin, or ran like rivulets up to the base of his head, and lengthened the wanted man's messy hair.

With strong, bulging muscles, Sirius slammed the entrance doors open, and only seconds later he was already shrinking into Padfoot the hound. He whined softly as the sudden influx of scents and sounds confounded his mind, but he continued to run across the entrance hall.

"Faster," both Sirius and Padfoot thought to himself, "There's no time."

* * *

Albus's wrist flicked out in a flourish as he finished signing the final legal document. With a weary wave of his hands, the paper fluttered over to the mind medic patiently sitting opposite Albus. If there was one thing Albus had determined from his analysis of the woman about to enter his mind, it was that she was serious.

Overly serious, Albus thought to himself. She hadn't even accepted a lemon drop.

"Finally," Kahlan stated in a voice that belied neither relief nor annoyance. "I can now begin the process of recovering your missing your memories." Her blue eyes were flickering as she began readying herself for the medical process.

"And you say this will only take a couple of minutes," Albus asked, staring at Kahlan, his fingers clasped with one another as he leant on his desk, peering at her with his own energetic, electric blue irises.

"Indeed. However, you will be completely defenseless within these few minutes. Should anyone interrupt the process, the backlash could be severe," she warned. Albus felt no fear however. He had securely locked down the office immediately after her arrival.

"If there are no problems," Kahlan continued, her voice controlled, "Then we shall begin."

* * *

Padfoot galloped up the spiral staircase, the nails on his paws clattering against stone flooring. He was almost there; just a few more steps and he would finally be there. The door to the next room was quickly approaching, and he transformed in mid stride so that when he hit the door at full force he was able to wrap his hands around the handle and wrench it open.

Sirius stumbled into the circular room, his breaths being released in loud heaves, and his eyes trailed across the room, searching for his target.

"Harry!" Sirius cried, his voice hoarse and rough, but it was loud enough to wake up the sleeping students inside the Gryffindor seventh year dorms.

"Whawazat?" Ron mumbled sleepily, before glancing at Sirius, yawning, and promptly falling back into a slumber.

"Sirius, what are you doing here?" Ryan asked, peeling back his red and gold curtains surrounding his bed.

"Ryan!" Sirius shouted, jumping over to the young man, "Where is your brother? Is he alright?" Ryan ground his teeth in frustration. Why was everything about his brother? Why couldn't Sirius have come to visit him for once?

Before Ryan could reply with a sarcastic statement, a loud thump was heard from behind Sirius, and the man fell to the ground howling in pain. Harry stood behind him, an irritated expression on his tired face, and a pillow held firmly in both hands.

"You're an idiot Sirius," Harry said bleakly, "If you keep whining like that you're going to wake up Professor McGonagall."

"But you hit me!" Sirius cried in exasperation.

"With a pillow," Harry stated.

"Right," Sirius replied, standing up and brushing himself off. Then without warning he pulled the young man into a crushing hug.

"Um, Sirius?" Harry managed to breath out.

"I heard you got into a fight with some Death Eaters and a giant. With a giant! By Merlin, I didn't expect to see you alive," Sirius said, his words rushed. The man's shoulders relaxed as began to realize that his godson was safe.

"I'm fine Sirius, please let go," Harry stammered, his ribs beginning to ache. When Sirius refused to budge he knocked him on the head again.

"Ow, Harry, that wasn't a pillow that time," Sirius complained, letting go of his godson and rubbing his injured head.

"Well you know what they say, a fist for an idiot," Harry replied.

"They really say that?" Sirius asked.

"No, I just made that up, but if you don't shut up I'll hit you again." Harry then glanced around the dorm, and realized that Neville, Seamus and Dean were staring at Harry and his godfather. Ron was fast asleep, and Ryan was already well acquainted with the man, but the other three were looking at the shaggy haired man with confusion.

"Right, everyone, let me introduce Sirius Black, my godfather," Harry said, and ignoring the dropping mouths and bulging eyes, he turned back to the man in question.

"Now, tell me, did you find Kahlan?" Harry asked, but before Sirius could reply the fearful screams and shouts of Harry's roommates blanketed the room.

* * *

Albus snapped back into consciousness, blinking rapidly as those sky blue eyes filled his vision. His head was thumping, his heartbeat resounding in his ears, and he was struggling to recall how he had received this particular hangover. Those sky blue eyes had something to do with it, but he just couldn't quite recall what had just happened.

"That bastard," A voice said, and Albus stared at the raven haired woman in front of him. Her pale complexion was even paler as she continued talking. "I can't believe he would do that to you!"

"Who did what to me?" Albus asked, confused, his aged mind struggling to keep up.

"Sirius," the woman spat, and Albus began thinking about that name. "I can't believe he would tamper with the mind of someone as prestigious as you."

Ah, she was talking about Sirius Black, Albus realized. He strained his mind further. What was it that man could have done to him?

Albus winced as he recalled the silvery blob of the obliviate spell hit him, and felt sick as he watched Sirius murder Fawkes. This had happened so long ago. How come he was only just remembering this now? What had happened?

"Albus, what are you going to do?" The woman asked, dressed in a simple, darkened cloak that covered the whole of her body. Her name… Albus struggled to remember… Kahlan, her name was Kahlan, and she had been called by Albus to recover his lost memories. Albus felt himself relaxing, and his shoulders sunk into his plush purple chair once more. Things were beginning to make sense again.

"This is all quite terrible," Albus spoke, more to himself than the woman in front of him. "I never would have imagined that Sirius would fall to the dark arts. It's obvious that Azkaban has changed him in ways that can't be repaired."

"What will you do to him?" Kahlan asked him once again, her complexion pale. Albus noted that for the first time since he had met her, the young lady was revealing her tightly knit emotions. Shock, betrayal and fury were evident in her eyes as she stared at Albus.

"I do not wish for him to die," Albus declared, and it was true. It went against his beliefs to be the cause of death of others. The war with Grindelwald had taught him that much. "As unfortunate as it sounds, I have no choice but to send him back to prison."

"You mean back to Azkaban?" Kahlan said, obviously shocked by his words. Albus stared at the woman, realizing that something wasn't right. For someone who had maintained such a cool façade earlier, why was talk of Sirius causing her such emotions.

Albus scanned his mind and reviewed another lost memory. A raven haired lady was playing and cuddling with baby Harry Potter, while Sirius sat behind her, a warm smile on his face, and a hand resting protectively on her shoulder. So this was one of the memories that Sirius had removed? Albus smiled to himself as he realized that Sirius was still enamored with this lady. Albus now had the perfect pawn. His originally plan had been to use Kahlan as a hostage to lure in Sirius, but staring at the betrayed expression on the girls face, Albus now had other ideas.

"You do not wish for him to go to Azkaban?" Albus asked Kahlan innocently, but secretly probing for her response. He had to know what Kahlan's feelings were for the man.

"Azkaban is too light of a punishment for Sirius," Kahlan replied harshly, and Albus smiled at her response. Before he could continue his manipulations, an instrument on his desk lit up. It was a security system for Hogwarts, informing the Headmaster about major disturbances. Currently, it was reacting to some turmoil within the Gryffindor common room. In particular, it was reacting to the presence of Sirius Black scaring the students.

Albus opened one of the many drawers on his desk and pulled out a badge of Hogwart's coat of arms. He held it in his palm, and after releasing a flow of magic into it, it begun glowing a bright blue.

"To all teaching staff, Sirius Black is loose within the castle. Subdue him by any means necessary, but the safety of our students is our priority." As Albus spoke, similar coat or arms that the teaching staff carried with them repeated the Headmaster's words, and within seconds the search for Sirius Black had begun.

"Come with me," Albus said to Kahlan, who appeared to be at a loss of what to do, "you shall help me capture Sirius Black."

* * *

"Calm down everyone!" Harry roared, but his voice was lost in the screaming of the Gryffindors. Sirius drew his wand, and with a flick of his wrist, several sparkling fireworks were sent up to the ceiling. They exploded with the force of a cannon, but instead of subduing the crowd it just scared them further.

"Good one Sirius," Harry muttered, who just shrugged sheepishly in response. "Go on, transform and get out of here. If you stay any longer someone's going to start a fight."

"Sorry about this Harry," Sirius said, but the big grin on his face suggested that he was anything but sorry. Sirius released one more wave of distracting fireworks, and in the resulting explosion, he transformed into the shaggy black dog and bustled his way out of the common room, weaving though the legs of various students.

He clambered out of the portrait hole when one of the Gryffindors decided they'd leave to try and inform a teacher about the intruder. Finally free of the chaos he had unwittingly created, Sirius made a quick dash to exit, eager to leave before Snivellus caught him.

He had only taken ten steps when he felt his body spasm, and suddenly he was sprawled across the ground, not as Padfoot, but as Sirius. He groaned, and turned around to see who it was that had recognized his animagus transformation. He smiled as he saw a familiar face.

"Hey Remus, how's it going," Sirius said as he clambered to his feet.

"I'm sorry Sirius," Remus replied softly, before he raised his wand against his friend.

* * *

For such an old man, Albus was quite pleased that he could move as fast as he could. He had made it to the entrance of the Gryffindor common room only minutes after he had announced the alarm. He appeared to be the only teacher to have arrived yet.

"Remus!" Kahlan suddenly shouted, and Albus turned around to see her leaning over the downed body of Professor Lupin. His robes were torn up into pieces, and the werewolf's blood was spattered across the ground. Albus raised an eyebrow at Kahlan's closeness with one of his professors, but if she had been in a relationship with Sirius, Albus supposed it was only natural for her to know Remus.

"_Enervate!"_ Albus muttered, waving his hand above Remus's forehead. The grizzled man blinked wearily as life flooded back into his body.

"Remus, what happened to you? Are you alright?" Kahlan cried.

"Kahlan!" Remus said in surprise, his eyes widening in disbelief. "What are you doing-" Remus cut himself off. "No, that doesn't matter. Listen to me! You have to find Sirius. He's gone crazy, do you understand?" Kahlan nodded once, her face tight as she struggled to contain her emotions.

"Headmaster, he's gone towards the entrance hall. You have to stop him," Remus panted heavily, the wounds on his body paining him.

"Don't worry Remus, I will stop him," Albus replied, before swirling around on his feet, his magnificent purple cloak billowing around him, and strolling towards the entrance hall. Kahlan gave one last, sorrowful look at Remus before falling into step behind Albus.

"Damn it," Remus muttered to himself once they had left, "This has turned into such a mess." He picked himself up off the ground, and brushed the dust off of his robes.

"What is Kahlan doing here? This is terrible," He continued to mutter to himself as he vanished the transfigured blood off of his body. With a flick of his wand his robes repaired themselves, and after pushing his hair back into his place, Remus appeared completely unharmed, as he was.

"Now to convince Madame Pomfrey that a dangerous convict actually hurt me. It wouldn't do for Albus to become suspicious of me too," Remus said, continuing to talk to himself. "Hopefully Sirius has made it to the Honeydukes passageway safely."

* * *

Sirius found himself hurtling through the secret passageway, his breath haggard. There had been far too much running tonight for a man thirty-eight years old. This was bad though, very bad. When Remus had informed Sirius about the alarm put out for his capture, Sirius realized that the only thing that alarm could mean was that Dumbledore had recovered his lost memory.

"Blast it!" Sirius swore, only moments before his head slammed into the ceiling. The swear words that followed after that were far more colourful. He consoled himself by being relieved that he had reached the end of the passage. He lifted the wooden trapdoor up, glanced around the dark, basement storage at Honeydukes, before heaving himself outwards.

Sirius knew that he was in trouble. Dumbledore now knew that it had been him that had murdered Fawkes and tampered with the man's memory. If Dumbledore caught him, he was certain he was never going to be a free man again. Sirius had to flee, but he found that he couldn't just leave Harry alone in this world. Sirius was the only one who knew about the second prophecy, and that Dumbledore was using Harry as a sacrifice to win the war.

In situations like this, there was only one place for Sirius to go. Concentrating his magic, Sirius apparated away from Hogsmeade, and to the house of his best friend.

"James!" Sirius called, his voice desperate. James strolled around the corner into the living room that Sirius had apparated into, a big smile on his face.

"Ah, Sirius, perfect timing. Lily and I were just talking about getting a dog," James joked.

"James, not now, this is serious," Sirius begged.

"And this is James." Fortunately for Sirius, Lily walked around the corner at that moment, and whacked her husband over the head.

"James, enough, can't you tell he's serious?" Lily reprimanded.

"I can't even tell if you're making fun of me or not," Sirius grumbled.

"Well then, what's got your tail?" James asked.

"James," Sirius growled.

"Flea in your bonnet?"

"Lily, control him, please?" Sirius begged.

"Cat got your bone?" Lily suggested.

"Lily, stop making fun of him, can't you tell he's distressed," James cried.

"Both of you, for just a minute, shut up," Sirius shouted. There was silence, which was eventually broken by Sirius.

"Have you been gaining weight Lily? You're looking a little big around the middle-" Sirius groaned as he suddenly found himself lying on the floor, his head ringing.

"That's enough Lily," James said soothingly, gently guiding her wand back down to its sheathe. "It's my turn now," James said, his eyes sparking as he turned to face Sirius.

"Wait!" Sirius cried, holding his hands up in front of him. "I'm in trouble."

"Damn right you are," Lily muttered venomously from behind James.

"Dumbledore's chasing me," Sirius explained. "There's a lot to explain, and I don't even understand it all myself, but you cannot believe Dumbledore. I haven't turned dark, I'm trying to help you."

James glanced at his wife, who despite still fuming, nodded her head in agreement. James held out a hand to his best friend, and pulled him up to his feet.

"We believe you. We already doubted you once, and because of that you went to Azkaban for thirteen years. We won't doubt you again."

"James," Sirius whispered softly, "Lily, thank you." He moved towards them, his arms outstretched to grab the two of them into a bear hug. "Thank you so m- OW!" Sirius leapt backwards as James sent a stinging hex at him.

"That's for calling my wife fat," James shouted, before chasing him out of the room, stinging hexes flinging out of his wand.

"Don't go easy on him, love," Lily called out, before placing her hands on her stomach. She hadn't gained weight, had she?

* * *

Albus was furious; Sirius Black had escaped the school. Four years ago Sirius had eluded Albus within Hogwarts castle for a whole year, and now the man was doing it again. Albus had waited at the entrance hall doors for Sirius, but the man never arrived. It had been thirty minutes since then, and after casting various detection charms, Albus realized that Sirius had indeed escaped.

"He's gone," Albus murmured to himself, "We'll never find him now."

"Excuse me Albus, but I think I might know where he is." Albus turned around to stare at the speaker. Kahlan stared at him challengingly with sky blue eyes.

"And where would that be, Kahlan?" Albus asked.

"Whenever Sirius was scared or confused, he would always visit his best friend, James Potter," Kahlan explained, and Albus raised his eyebrows at her. Of course, it was obvious. Albus now had no doubts. Kahlan truly harboured no positive feelings for Sirius Black anymore. If she had, she would not have given away his location.

"Well then, hold onto my arm, my dear, and let us pay a visit to the Potters." Albus held out his arm, and Kahlan grabbed onto it before the two disappeared in a burst of displaced air. The two stumbled into existence moments later in the Potter's living room. Lily Potter, her long fiery hair falling loosely down her body stared at them in surprise with her enchanting emerald eyes.

"Kahlan," Lily whispered, "What are you doing here?"

"Ah, Lily," Albus said reassuringly, "By any chance, you wouldn't happen to have any guests over?" Lily dragged her eyes off of Kahlan and forced them onto Albus. There were only minute movements, but Albus noticed that she tensed her muscles, and that she twisted her slender body so that less of her was facing him. She was preparing for a fight.

Albus whipped his wand out in order to subdue her before she called out, but he was too slow. Lily had drawn her willow wand, and with a flick of her wrist she dispelled the incoming silencing curse.

"James! Sirius! He's here!" Lily cried. Albus heard cursing and shouting from upstairs, and he felt relieved that he still had a period of time to subdue Lily before they arrived. Albus flung his wand downward, and the floorboards of the house rose up, twisted in upon themselves as they were transformed into wooden warriors.

It had been a long time since Albus had seen Lily duel, and it was only now he remembered why the Marauders had been so scared of the red head's wrath. Just as Albus was a master of transfiguration, Lily was a master of charms. With a wave of her wand, two dozen plates stacked upon the living room table burst into life, skating across the table as small feet like stubs protruded from the bottom edge. Each plate gripped a knife and fork in each knobby hand, the weapons charmed to be unbreakable.

As the kitchen warriors skated across the room, engaging the wooden warriors in a ferocious battle, Lily waved her wand at the living room table, and a large stack of James's Auror documents were sent flying into the air. With another flick of her wand the pieces of paper were sent spinning towards the old wizard. A wooden warrior jumped in front of Dumbledore, protecting him from the barrage. The wooden warrior cracked, and the transformation failed, reverting it back to a floorboard. The slips of paper that did not hit the wooden puppet sliced into the floor and wall around Albus, burying themselves an inch into the solid wood.

With the absence of the wooden puppets, the plate warriors leapt at Albus, their magically sharpened cutlery threatening him. Albus twirled his wand around him, and freezing the air around him, a dome of ice was formed, entrapping all but one of the plates. The free plate was left outside the dome, and in one slash with the butter knife, the dome was smashed into pieces, and it's plate comrades were freed. Albus dissaparated to the opposite corner of the room, barely avoiding being skewered by two dozen forks.

Lily charmed the six foot long living room table to neigh and whinnie like a horse, and the next thing Albus knew, the two dozen plate warriors were charging at him from atop of a horse table, galloping across the room, it's wooden legs clattering against the wooden floor.

Albus cast the most powerful blasting charm at the incoming chaotic threat. The whole house shook as the bright light left Albus's wand like a cannon shot, decimating all that stood before it. The table horse was blasted into splinters, along with the wooden wall behind it. The plate warriors were not shattered, as Lily has charmed them to be unbreakable, and were instead sent flying around the room, smashing everything they collided with. Dumbledore could have sworn he heard the plates grumbling and cursing as they stood back up, bracing themselves for battle.

Albus sighed. He hadn't wanted to fight Lily seriously, for fear of hurting her, but it seemed there was no choice. Pointing his wand at the ceiling, Albus transformed the three central support pillars into hissing, acidic sea serpents. The poison would not kill, but would immediately paralyze, and would take days for the effects to wear off.

With the loss of the central support pillars, the ceiling was barely standing, and with a charm to increase it's weight, Lily brought the roof down, smashing it upon the acidic sea serpents. It was no use however, as the acidic creatures dissolved the wooden construct upon impact.

"Lily!" James roared, and before the incoming serpent could strike her she felt herself tugged backwards several meters, as James caused a whirlwind of air to drag her into his arms. With fury in his eyes James turned to face the Headmaster and his poisonous transfigurations. James transfigured the only remaining objects in the living room, the chairs, into diamond eagles. The six glistening birds of prey assaulted the venomous drakes, the diamond too resistant to be dissolved by the acid.

"Albus, you bastard!" James cried, running towards the man who had attacked his wife. The wand in his hand transformed into a gauntlet that encompassed his right fist, and it blazed with power as he neared the man who threatened his family. A sea serpent slithered through the air towards him, intent on stopping him, but James smashed his fist into the head of the creature, destroying it, and thus the transformation, causing a solid wooden pillar to crash to the ground.

James raised his fist again, and turned it towards Dumbledore, but before he could reach him, a powerful banishing charm hit James in the chest. James was smashed through the living room wall and into one of the bedrooms, Kahlan pursuing him as she launched several more banishing charms for good measure.

"James!" Lily cried, losing sight of her husband, and she tried to chase after him, but Albus sent a rapid series of concussive curses at her, simultaneously transforming the wooden floorboards into animated ropes that threatened to entangle her. She ignored them however, as the plate warriors hacked through the ropes with their butter knives, and deflected the concussive curses with their dessert spoons.

"Enough!" Albus roared when the plates broke into a chorus of victory cheers, "_Graviterium!_" He bellowed, and Lily was forced to throw a dispelling charm on herself so she wouldn't be slammed into the ground. Unfortunately, her plate warriors, now weighing too much to move, were stuck on the ground, their curses muffled as they tried to pick themselves up.

"_Expulso,_" Albus shouted at Lily, who was unprepared to defend herself, and she was sent flying through the hole in the wall into the kitchen.

"_Wingardium Leviosa!_" A new voice shouted, and Albus turned to see Sirius Black catching Lily with magic before she crashed into the kitchen bench.

"Sirius, this ends here," Albus proclaimed, swirling his wand with a flourish, and causing a chain of fire to swirl around his body.

"You won't win Albus. I won't let you sacrifice Harry," Sirius snarled back in response.

"You don't understand Sirius," Albus explained calmly, "It's the only way." Sirius leapt out of the way when the chain of fire whipped out at him, cracking as it broke the sound barrier. He transformed into Padfoot and charged across the room, diving beneath the twirling flames, and snapping his jaws around Albus's forearm.

Albus swung Sirius off, sent him swinging through the air, and cast a series of curses at the dog. Padfoot transformed back into Sirius, and with precise aim, cast three dark imbued spells that collided with Albus's curses, eradicating all the spellwork. The two raised their wands to continue fighting.

"Sirius, stop!" James shouted, and both Albus and Sirius stopped to stare at James as he clambered out of the wreckage, Kahlan close behind him.

"James, what's wrong, did that woman hurt you…" Sirius's voice faded away as he recognized the woman. "Kahlan?" He said weakly, his voice breaking.

"I'm sorry Sirius," James said softly. "Kahlan showed me everything you did. This is the only way."

"James, stop!" Lily shouted from the kitchen.

"Wait! James, what are you doing?" Sirius cried. He raised his wand in an attempt to defend himself, but he was too confused to truly fight properly.

"_Lumos Maxima!_" Kahlan shouted, and for an instant, the world went white as the magnificent, raw release of light blinded the inhabitants of the room. The clack of Sirius's wand falling to the ground as he clutched his eyes in agony resounded throughout the room. The light faded, and James was still pointing his wand at the defenseless Sirius, who just stared at him.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" James cried. The pulsing wave of green light left his wand, and shot towards his best friend. Lily's high pitched, ear shattering scream bounced around the house, but when the green curse hit Sirius in the chest, it changed nothing. Sirius's face didn't change as he slowly fell backwards, his feet giving in. When he collided with the floor, bouncing once before remaining motionless, Lily's tears did nothing to bring him back to life.

"James… you-" Albus began, but James interrupted him.

"Leave us, Dumbledore," He said, his voice firm, but hollow, "This is a family matter now."

"Indeed," Albus replied sadly, "Indeed it is." He stared at Kahlan for a long moment, but it was clear that she needed to stay here with Sirius if she were to come to terms with his death. Without another word Albus apparated out of the Potter's residence and back to Hogwarts, to inform the staff of the tragic news, and to go to the hospital wing and receive treatment for the dog bite on his forearm.

"James how could you!" Lily screamed at her husband from across the room, tears falling down her face.

"Lily," James said soothingly, trying to approach her, "You don't understand, it's not what you think."

"What do you mean I don't understand? Of course I understand! You murdered Sirius!" She backed away from James when he tried to hold her, fear and betrayal shining in her emerald eyes.

"Lily, please listen," James tried to say.

"Stay away from me!" She screamed, before turning to Kahlan, "And you…" Lily's voice faded away as she watched Kahlan wave her wand above Sirius's dead body, and for it to vanish.

"Where… where'd he go?" Lily asked, confused.

"_Finite_," Kahlan cast, as she waved her wand over Sirius's wand, the wand that had fallen when she had cast the _lumos maximus_. Lily stared with gaping eyes as the wand disappeared with a pop, and was replaced by the living, breathing body of Sirius Black.

"I think," Sirius said breathlessly, staring into the forget-me-not, unforgettable blue eyes of Kahlan as she leaned over him, "I'm going to kiss you."

Kahlan smiled at him, her face lighting up with happiness as he leant towards her. She then proceeded to raise her hand and slap him across the face.

"What was that for?" Sirius exclaimed, clambering to his knees and staring at her in indignation.

"For leaving me sixteen years ago," Kahlen said, glaring at him, daring him to challenge her. She then leant towards him, placing one hand on his chest and pushing him down to the ground. Leaning over him, her legs straddling his waist, she gave him a wicked grin.

"And this is for still loving me after sixteen years," Kahlen said huskily, her raven hair falling down her face, and pooling around Sirius like a curtain, enveloping the two of them from the destruction of the world as their lips came together. Her forearms fell on the ground either side of his head as she leant in further, deepening the kiss, and Sirius wrapped his arms around her slender waist, pulling her in closer as if afraid she would disappear otherwise.

"Really? In the middle of our destroyed living room?" James exclaimed, "You two can't be serious."

The two pulled their lips apart, but it took longer to pull their eyes away from one another. Finally, Kahlan spoke.

"Maybe in a few years I'll change my last name, but for now," Kahlan turned to grin at James, "I'm just joking."

* * *

**I debated long and hard on whether to leave a nasty cliffhanger with Sirius dying. I just couldn't bring myself to do it though. I needed this happy ending.**

**The actual fighting with Voldemort and crew is going to begin soon, so hang on tight. The stories only just begun, but it's finally reaching the ending.  
**

**Cheers**

**-Council**


	19. A Small Bump

It was in the midst of the destruction that the Potter's family home had been afflicted with that Kahlan reacquainted herself with her old friends. Sirius had been a little too eager for more physical contact, and so Kahlan had quite happily bound his wrists together with pink, fluffy handcuffs, charmed to be both unbreakable and inescapable.

"How have you been Lily? It's been years since we last talked," Kahlan asked, drowning out the muffles Sirius was making from beneath his gag.

"It has, hasn't it? I see you're still keeping Sirius in place," Lily replied, before the two girls burst into complimenting chimes of laughter, and greeting each other in a friendly embrace.

"I'm sorry that our first rendezvous had to be so… destructive," Kahlan apologized, her eyes glancing around the now unrecognizable living room, adorned with two gaping holes in the walls, a missing roof, and a windy hole where the window once sat.

"Leave it to us," James said proudly, standing up and surveying the room.

"There's too much damage for a simple _reparo_ though," Kahlan explained.

"Ah, but you see, we Marauders spent an awful lot of time destroying things in our lifetime," James explained. "Accidently, of course," he added when Lily gave him a murderous glare.

"And therefore, we got quite proficient at cleaning up our mess," Sirius spoke from behind Kahlan, and she whipped her head around to stare at the incapacitated man. Her mouth fell open when she couldn't spot the handcuffs around his wrists anymore.

"But how?" Kahlan asked.

"Marauder secret," Sirius replied with a wink, "besides, pink suits you better." Kahlan glanced down at her wrists and groaned as she discovered her own summoned handcuffs wrapped around her dainty wrists. She shouted Sirius's name, but he only chuckled, and ignored her as he and James stepped into the middle of the room, back to back.

"Are you ready Padfoot?"

"Not really, I think the living room looks better like this," Sirius replied, but nonetheless, he began waving his wand in front of him. The two best friends sent fragments of the wreckage zooming around the room, crashing into one another, but instead of smashing into smaller pieces, the objects stuck together, and the cracks and seams disappeared as the furniture was repaired. All the while, the two continued to shuffle their feet in a clockwise direction as they continued to repair the room. Kahlan temporarily forgot about her anger towards Sirius as she watched the impressive display of magic in front of her.

All too soon, the living room was looking far more recognizable. There was a layer of dirt and sawdust covering the floor, and leaves and twigs littered the room as a result of the broken window, but for the most part, the repair work was immaculate. With a wave of her wand, Lily summoned countless toothbrushes for her faithful plate warriors to wield, and sent them sweeping the room. The warriors grumbled, but nonetheless followed their master's orders.

Leaving the plates to do the cleaning, the group moved out of the living room to the entertainment room, where Lily had set up a Muggle televisions to run despite the influence of magic. The two couples collapsed into opposite loveseats, although Kahlan refused to snuggle up to Sirius as Lily did with James. She was still furious about the handcuffs, even after he had removed them from her.

"So," Lily began, "Does someone want to explain why Albus destroyed half our house?

"That's kind of my fault," both Sirius and Kahlan said at the same, resulting in raised eyebrows from the Potters.

"Albus only came here because I fled here," Sirius explained.

"But Albus only knew to come here because I told him that," Kahlan interrupted.

"Speaking of that, why were you with Albus?" Sirius asked Kahlan.

"He hired me to recover some lost memories a certain criminal stole from him," Kahlan replied, and Sirius had the modesty to look guilty.

"I'm not going to pretend to be innocent, but at the time, I had no other choice, I was trying to protect Harry," Sirius explained.

"Harry," James said slowly, finally entering the conversation, "You mean my Harry, Harry Potter?" Sirius stared at James with wide eyes for several seconds.

"How?" Sirius asked, "How can you remember?"

"That would be my doing," Kahlan said. "When you and Lily were dueling Albus, I blasted James into another room so Albus wouldn't see what I was doing. After being inside Albus's mind to recover the lost memories, I learnt exactly what it was he had done to the Potters."

"And what exactly did he do to them?" Sirius growled.

"A powerful confounding charm that caused the Potter's to believe that they only had one child. Usually confounding charms are never this powerful, this long lasting, and this effective, but Albus Dumbledore is a prodigy." James was nodding his head in understanding, but Lily was looking at everyone in the room like they were crazy.

"With me and James in the other room, I disarmed him, petrified him, and then went into his mind and removed the mind blocks. It was all very simple for me, being a mind medic and all. It only took a minute." Sirius was staring at Kahlan in shock.

"How did you disarm James so fast though? He's one of the top duelers in the Auror academy," Sirius exclaimed.

"Because of the confounding charm, every time I mentioned the name Harry Potter his mind would physically assault itself, destroying the memory," Kahlan explained. They glanced at Lily, who was clutching her head in pain as she heard the name of her forgotten son. "I just shouted that name over and over. James couldn't do anything about it."

"I was the one who came up with the 'kill Sirius Black' plan," James said cheerfully, eliciting a glare from the man in question. "Kahlan blinded the room with the _lumos maxima_, I transformed Sirius into a stick that looks like his wand, and made a dummy Sirius out of some wooden planks." Everyone looked at James impressively.

"Of course, for a Master transfigurationist like me, that was nothing," James bragged, causing the occupants of the room to groan.

"Now that the world thinks I'm dead, what do we do now?" Sirius asked.

"First, I'd like to repair Lily's mind, if that's alright with you?" Kahlan proposed. At James's nod of agreement, Kahlan knelt in front of Lily as she sat in the love chair, her hands clasped firmly around her husband's, and Kahlan delved into her mind. Kahlan destroyed the confoundus charm that caused the Potter's to believe that they only had one child in less then a minute, and quickly drew out of her friend's mind, trying to respect her privacy.

As Kahlan was drawn back into reality, she found herself staring into a pair of shocked emerald eyes. They weren't staring at Kahlan though. The green eyes were staring through Kahlan, as if Lily couldn't see her.

"Lily, are you alright?" James asked, rubbing his hand around his wife's hands. When she didn't reply James's voice grew more urgent. "Lily, sweetheart, can you hear me?"

"J-James," Lily stammered, turning her hear slowly to face her husband. Her face had paled, but a flush was quickly returning to her cheeks.

"I'm pregnant," Lily said, her voice high pitched, confused, yet certain. James stared back at her, his own hazel eyes widening in shock. His mouth fell open uselessly as he tried to think of something to say.

"See, I told you she looked bigger," Sirius said proudly, before succumbing to the wrath of two violent women and one over-protective husband.

* * *

"I can't believe Sirius just stormed into the dorms like that," Harry grumbled, rubbing his bleary eyes with the back of his hands as he settled into breakfast. Even with Harry and Ginny's impromptu nap in the library, Harry had still been exhausted from the fight with the Death Eaters the night before. Sirius waking him up in the middle of the night hadn't helped Harry's mood in the slightest.

"Mmhm," Neville mumbled from the other side of the table. His eyes were vacant as he stared at the plate of food in front of him, as if hoping he could absorb the contents, and skip the tedious process of eating.

"You alright mate?" Harry asked, concerned for his friend, "Sirius didn't scare you that much, did he?" If he did, Harry was going to have some stern words with his godfather.

"Nah, it's not that," Neville said, pushing his untouched plate of food away from him, "It's… it's nothing."

"Sure doesn't seem like nothing to me," Harry argued, pushing the plate of food back to Neville.

"I'm just tired, y'know. There's been so much going on lately," Neville explained, but his eyes were flickering back and forth nervously.

"I know what you mean. I haven't had a proper night's sleep since that Death Eater battle…" Harry's voice trailed off when he saw Neville wince. "Aw, blimey Neville, you're not still thinking about that battle are you?"

"How can I not!" Neville snapped angrily at Harry, showing the first display of emotion all morning. "Every time I close my eyes I see the Death Eater that I killed. I can't even eat without feeling sick anymore." Neville's burst of anger disappeared as quickly as it came, and he paled once more.

"The worst thing is, I don't even know what the Death Eater looked like. I don't even know if it was a he or a she. Did they have a family? What about their parents? What if I killed someone I knew?" By now Neville was panicking, and shifting nervously in his seat. Harry glanced around their table, checking to see if anyone was in eavesdropping distance. For once, Harry's infamy was a fort, as the Gryffindors were leaving a substantial space between them and Harry.

"I can still hear the noise the knife made when it hit the Death Eater. It was this squelching noise, and I can always hear it, and… I think I'm going to be sick." Neville did indeed look like he was about to be nauseous. Harry felt slightly relieved Neville hadn't touched his breakfast.

"Listen Neville, I didn't say this before, but I'm in your debt for what you did that night. I don't mean the killing," Harry said hastily before Neville said something, "I meant you chasing after me. If you hadn't done what you'd done, I probably wouldn't be breathing right now. I'm sorry you were forced to kill someone though, no one should ever have to-"

"You don't understand," Neville interrupted rather frantically, "You don't get it at all Harry. If I were back in that situation, I would still kill that person. To save your life, and to save Ginny's life, I murdered someone, and I would do it again, every time, without hesitation."

"But that makes me a bad person then, doesn't it?"

* * *

"Up you get everyone!" Ron bellowed at the top of his voice, consequently waking up all the seventh year boys. Harry blearily opened his eyes and glanced out the window.

"Bloody hell Ron, it's still dark outside, " Harry grumbled. Chrome stuck his rustic head out from beneath Harry's blanket, and gave an irritated yap in agreement of its master.

"And by the time we get to the Quidditch pitch it'll be sunrise, now move it team. That's an order from your captain," Ron ordered loudly.

"I'm not even on the team," Harry complained.

"I made you a reserve, remember?"

"I never agreed to that!"

"Remember Harry, you only get to date my sister if you play by my rules," Ron said cheerfully, but his eyes were flashing menacingly.

"This is a bloody dictatorship," Harry grumbled, but he pulled himself out of bed. Chrome stared at him with mocking blue eyes, before digging back beneath Harry's sheets and settling down for more sleep. Harry glared at the firefox enviously as he pulled on the Quidditch robes Ron had scrounged up for him, and trundled down the stairs, quickly followed by Ryan, Seamus and Dean. Ron remained at the entrance to the dorm, standing proudly as he watched his team members march away. He gave one last glance at the room, and spotted Neville, still lying in his bed, staring at Ron.

"Oh, right, sorry about that Neville," Ron said sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "I kinda forgot you weren't on the team. I won't wake you up next time, I promise. Anyway, I gotta run. I'll see you at breakfast," and before Neville could reply, Ron could be heard running down the spiral staircase, his feet pounding against the floor.

"Bloody Quidditch fanatics," Neville muttered to himself, before sighing, "Oh well, it wasn't like I was sleeping well anyway."

* * *

"You do realize Ron, that I'm not even dating your sister," Harry tried to say, but Ron would have none of it.

"Yeah, but it's only a matter of time. From what I heard, you already went on a date last week."

"That wasn't even a date! We were just meeting up in the library to do some homework," Harry argued.

"Well she thinks so," Ron murmured..

"What?" Harry said, not quite hearing Ron's words.

"I said, if you don't grab this beater bat from my hand in three seconds, I'm going to beat you over the head with it, got it?"

"But I-"

"One!"

"Alright, alright, I'm taking the damn bat," Harry grumbled.

"Excellent," Ron said with a cheerful smile on his face. "Now everyone, listen up," Ron said in a much louder voice, "Dean, you've always wanted to be a chaser, and you've always wanted to surrounded by girls, so I'm granting both your wishes. You're going to be working with the girls as a chaser from now on. Face off with each other in pairs. Harry, you're a big man, so you'll be our new beater alongside Seamus. Everything else stays the same, understood?"

"Yes Captain," the team replied.

"Then what are you waiting for?" Ron exclaimed, "Get flying! Go! Go! Go!"

* * *

Ginny sighed as she took a break from reading her book. She was lonely. Not that she wasn't used to that. She had spent the last six years of her life being lonely. After Tom Riddle had used her during the Chamber of Secrets she hadn't been the same. Even though the diary was destroyed, and Tom gone along with it, she couldn't help but feel like it wasn't the end, especially if her nightmares were to say anything.

No, she was used to being lonely, so she didn't understand why it was bothering her. She had coped with it for six years and had been perfectly fine, thank you very much, and then Harry bloody Potter had to crash into her backyard on a flying motorcycle and piss her off.

What she wouldn't give for him to be around and piss her off a little more…

She shook her head, her fiery hair swishing past her eyes, before burying her head in her pillow. By Merlin, what was she thinking? It wasn't even that Harry was avoiding her or something like that. She had spent more time this last week with Harry then she had ever spent with anyone outside her family in her life. The problem was that the more time she spent with that idiot, the harder it was to be away from him.

In an attempt to distract herself, Ginny grabbed the book she was reading and tried to find her spot again. Her eyes began flickering side to side as she read.

"_I'll never leave you Amelia, I promise," the man she was so in love with whispered into her ear. She melted into his chest as his powerful arms wrapped around her body._

"_I love you," Amelia whispered._

"_I love you too," he whispered back, his lips drawing closer to hers, "But I think you already know that."_

_Amelia closed her eyes as she waited for their lips to touch, until finally-_

"AHH, Why the hell am I reading this!" Ginny screamed, throwing the book away from her as hard as she could. She glared at the romance novel, it's pages strewn across the ground as it lay unmoving. Ginny contemplated leaving the novel their, and letting the other girls try and figure out who it belonged to. No one would ever guess it was hers. After all, according to them, she was a dark lord, a descendent of Slytherin, tamer of basilisks and enemy of the mudbloods.

Ginny soon realized though that if she didn't retrieve the book, she would never see it again, and then she would never know how it ended. If there was one thing Ginny hated, it was unfinished stories.

So Ginny rolled herself off the bed, retrieved the book, and slid it under her mattress, along with the other Muggle stories she had smuggled into Hogwarts. She cast a quick _tempus_ charm, and realizing that it was still early in the night, decided it wouldn't seem too strange if she went downstairs searching for Harry. With the thought of Harry in mind, she trundled down the staircase to the noisy common room. She glanced around, but couldn't find him anywhere, only Ryan in a deep conversation with Ron and Hermione.

"Are you looking for Harry?" Neville asked, and Ginny stifled a squeal as she jumped, and turned around to face the meek boy.

"Y-yeah, have you seen him?"

"No, but I might know where he is. Want me to show you?"

Ginny nodded. It was a very erratic, unnatural movement, and Neville seemed to pick up on her nervousness.

"I was pretty surprised when I saw you that night," Neville said, as he led Ginny out of the common room, and Ginny knew by the tone of his voice that he meant the night they had fought the Death Eaters. "I don't usually see you so, well, stubborn. Usually you're like this," he explained, waving his hands around her, as if trying to exemplify her shyness.

"W-well, I was thinking about a lot of things that night," Ginny said, and then remembering the words Harry had spoken to her long ago, she forcefully stopped her stammering. "And besides, Harry told me I shouldn't be hiding myself away."

"I see," Neville said, "Harry has that effect on people, doesn't he?"

"Yeah, he does," Ginny said, affection seeping into her voice. They continued to walk along the empty, torch lit corridors. They were allowed out at this time of night, being in their 6th and 7th year, but it didn't make the castle any less ominous. They were heading up several flights of stairs, and Ginny was growing more confused about where Harry was.

"Hey Ginny, how did you know that there were going to be Death Eaters there that night?" Neville asked, breaking the foreboding quiet of the castle. When Ginny didn't respond, he pressed on.

"It's just that there was that whole Chamber of Secrets incident of yours in your first year. No one really knows what happened," Neville said, continuing to talk. Ginny was relieved he was leading, as he couldn't see her face pale. "It's just that, it's kind of strange that you're connected to these dark events.

"I'm fine Neville, there's nothing wrong with me," Ginny managed to say. There was silence as Neville waited for more, but Ginny refused to talk further.

"If you say so," he said simply, before leading her through a corridor on the seventh floor. Realizing they were getting closer to their destination, Ginny's mind was dragged away from her despairing thoughts of the diary, and towards far more pleasant thoughts of Harry.

Ginny could see stars twinkling at the end of the passage, and she realized it must lead to a balcony. As she and Neville quietly stepped out into the moonlight, Ginny turned so that she could see Harry. He had his back faced to the two of them, and appeared to be oblivious to their entrance. He was wearing his trademark leather jacket he wore at all times he wasn't forced to wear the school robes. Tufts of his messy black hair were being pulled up in the cool night breeze. She knew that if he turned around, she would be able to see his piercing green eyes, framed by those black rimmed glasses he constantly wore. Not that Ginny minded, she thought he looked good with glasses.

Harry had his wand drawn and pointed over the edge of the balcony. He appeared to be making rather violent jabbing motions with the stick, but if he was trying to cast something magical, nothing was happening.

"Fire," Harry said, his voice soft, barely carrying over to Neville and Ginny. He jabbed his wand again, but nothing happened.

"Come on, just a small fire. Fireball! Flamethrower! Ember!" Nothing happened, and he growled in frustration.

"Fire blast! Heat Wave!" Again nothing happened, and he took several deep breaths, before continuing several jabbing patterns with his wand. Nothing seemed to work, and Ginny was just about to make her presence known when he finally lost his temper.

"For God's sake! Just do something!" He roared, and in response, a tidal wave of flames erupted from his redwood wand. The dark, stone balcony was lit up as the bright, flickering, waves of fire rolled outwards. The flames continued to grow bigger, even growing powerful enough to brighten up the Hogwart's grounds far below them. They were some of the most intense flames Ginny had ever seen, scorching the very air, and burning her mouth as she breathed in.

However, several seconds later the flames puttered out of existence, and Harry collapsed to his knees, exhausted, his wand spewing smoke. He groaned as he dropped his wand, letting it clatter to the ground, and leaned with all fours on the ground.

"Harry!" Ginny cried in concern, rushing over to him. Neville followed her, but at a more sedate pace.

"Oh, hey there you two, I didn't see you," Harry said wearily, pushing himself off the ground, and leaning against the stone railing.

"What are you doing?" Ginny demanded.

"Practicing. As you can see, it would be a bit of a problem if I practiced indoors. This is one of the few places I can safely practice," Harry explained. It was obvious to Ginny that he was having trouble standing up however. Whatever he had done had clearly exhausted him.

"And what exactly are you trying to practice?" Ginny asked, continuing to pester him. Harry didn't seem to care though. In fact, by the hint of the smile on his face, he seemed to enjoy her attention.

"I'm trying to limit how much fire I spew out of my wand. As of now, it's all or nothing. Neither is that useful to me if I ever get attacked by Death Eaters again." Harry said nonchalantly. "That's all I can do for tonight, unfortunately. Once I cast something that big, it's impossible for me to do anything more."

"You've been preparing for another Death Eater fight?" Ginny asked, her voice incredulous.

"He's been up here every night for the past two weeks," Neville said, handing a leaf to Harry, who promptly slipped it in his mouth and began chewing.

"Thanks Neville," Harry said, and then at Ginny's questioning look, he expanded, "They're passium herbs, a magical plant that gives you a burst of energy when you chew them. Kind of like red bull."

"Red bull?" Ginny asked, her voice skeptical as she pictured a red painted bull running around a paddock.

"Umm, kind of like those pepper-up potions you magical folk use, except I don't have access to those, while Neville grows some of these passium herbs in the greenhouse."

"I see," Ginny said slowly, "They're not addictive, are they?"

"Don't worry, they're not!" Harry said cheerfully, the effects of the herb already setting in.

"Actually, they are," Neville corrected, but Harry just rolled his eyes.

"Ok, so they can be addictive, but not when you have just one leaf," Harry admitted.

"Don't worry," Neville reassured Ginny, who was looking fretful. "I'm quite good with plants, I won't let him get addicted."

"Yes, yes, Neville's got me under control, everything's good," Harry said impatiently, "Now let's hurry up and get back. I don't want this stuff to wear off before I'm in bed, or I'll be sleeping with Nearly Headless Nick again."

"What?" Ginny exclaimed as they all began striding back to the common rooms.

"Yeah, last week I didn't make it back before the passium ran out. I pretty much passed out from exhaustion on the fourth floor. When I woke up, Nick was hovering over me, his head dangling at a rather funny angle. Gave me a heart attack that did."

"Right," Ginny said, unsure of what to say after hearing that. Ginny couldn't help but compare the two Potter boys. When Harry fell asleep in the middle of a corridor, he slept the whole night without incident. Ginny was sure that if it had been Ryan, he would have been kidnapped by Goblins, attacked by Voldemort, then rescued a Griffin, and fought an evil sea dragon before returning to the hospital wing to sleep in a coma for the following three days.

All too soon they arrived back at the common room. It was far emptier by now, as most of the younger years had gone upstairs to sleep. Neville walked over to his table and began packing away his half finished work, leaving Harry and Ginny alone. This was it. This was her chance. It had been two weeks since their failed attempt at a date. Well, admittedly, it wasn't actually a date. Ginny had just pretended that the two of them visiting the library had been one. She wasn't even sure if Harry had felt the same way. He probably hadn't. It was probably just her reading too many romance novels.

However, this time Ginny could be the proactive one. She could be the one to ask Harry on a date. There was a trip to Hogsmeade soon after all. She had heard so much about Hogsmeade dates from the other girls in her dorm. Surely going on one with Harry would be the perfect experience.

"Harry," Ginny started to say.

"Ginny," Harry said at the same time. Ginny only just became aware that she had been caught staring at Harry. She hadn't even realized that she had been staring unabashedly into his wondrous emerald eyes. She felt herself redden, but was surprised that Harry seemed to flush slightly as well.

"You first," Harry said.

"N-no, it's alright, you go first," Ginny stammered back. Damnit, where had her confidence gone?

"Alright, well I was wondering if you'd like to-" Harry began, and Ginny felt her heart skip a beat as she thought she knew what he was going to say. Unfortunately, it was at that moment that Harry's eyes lost focus, and his posture slumped.

"Ah, damn," he slurred, "the passium's worn off." That was all Harry was able to say before he collapsed to the ground in a slump, limps splayed across the ground.

"Harry?" Ginny asked nervously, her voice frantic.

"He's fine," Neville said as he walked over, his work packed neatly into his book bag. "It's from over exerting his magic supplies. It happens every night. It's why he needs the passium herbs."

"But… but-" Ginny tried to say, but Neville cut her off.

"I'm telling you, he's fine. He'll be back to normal in the morning," Neville said, and without another word, he grabbed his friend by the armpits, and began the long haul up the seventh year dorms.

"But he was going to ask me something," Ginny said sadly to herself. "I thought he was going to ask me out…"

* * *

Harry awoke in his bed, and he felt quite inclined to simply lie there for the rest for the rest of the day. It was a Saturday after all, and Saturdays were made for sleeping in. Ron's loud, prominent snoring suggested that he too felt the same way.

A soft breathing by Harry's side caused him to look down and spot Chrome, asleep on his back, his white socked paws sticking up in the air. Harry smiled at the pup's silly position, but his smile faded when he remembered that he had promised to eat breakfast with Willow this morning.

Grumbling, Harry pulled himself off of the intoxicatingly soft mattress and stumbled towards the boy's bathroom, leaving a disorientated Chrome behind. Harry returned minutes later, his hair still wet and a towel wrapped around his legs. He rummaged through his luggage and limited clothes, and pulled out the usual. A pair of denim jeans, a relatively grease free white shirt, and his leather jacket.

Chrome grumbled on the bed. He appeared to be in a dilemma between sleeping and going with his master. Harry sighed, before reaching into his belongings and pulling out the detachable hood that belonged to his jacket. He clipped it on, lifted the small pup off the bed and dropped him in the hood. Harry quickly zipped up the jacket before the weight of the firefox pulled the jacket off his arms. Chrome gave an appreciate bark, before snuggling up and promptly falling back to sleep.

Harry made his way down to the great hall, taking care not to make any violent moves and disturb, or even worse, dislodge Chrome from his position. Finally arriving at the great hall, Harry made his way, not to the Gryffindor table like he usually would, but to the Ravenclaw table.

"Harry! You're finally here," Willow said cheerfully, and was about to launch herself off her seat into his arms when she stopped herself. She crossed her arms, and tried to give him the sternest glare she could manage. "What took you so long?"

Harry took one look at her before bursting into laughter. She didn't look intimidating at all. Her brown eyes were large and puppy dog like, and her cheeks looked like they were fighting to contain a smile.

"What! What's so funny? Don't laugh at me! Haarrryy, don't laugh!" Willow complained. She had her tiny hands balled into fists, and was beating his arm. Harry shook off her attack, ruffled her blond hair, and sat himself down beside her.

"I'm sorry, it's just that you looked so cute," Harry said, still chuckling slightly. Willow eyed him suspiciously before smiling and hugging his arm.

"Well, if you think I'm cute, then it's alright," she admitted. On Harry's other side, Georgia, Willow's room mate, sat down, and grabbed Harry's other arm.

"Good morning Harry," she said happily, smiling up at him.

"Morning Georgia," Harry replied, smiling at the young girl.

"Georgia, let go of Harry, he's mine," Willow complained to her friend, causing Harry to raise an eyebrow.

"That's not fair Willow, you have him all the time, why can't I have him sometimes," Georgia argued back.

"But Harry said he would come down to eat breakfast with me. Isn't that right Harry?" Willow asked.

"Well, yeah, that is true," Harry admitted.

"But that doesn't mean Harry can't spent time with me too, right Harry?"

"Umm, that's also true, I guess. Right Willow?" Harry asked nervously, only to be confronted with a proper glare this time.

"Harry is mine," Willow said, tugged on his arm.

"No, he's mine," Georgia argued,' tugging on my other arm.

"Umm, girls, do you think we can do this, ouch, peacefu- ow!" The two were tugging on his arms quite strongly now, especially for two eleven year old girls. It was with one rather powerful tug from Willow that he was pulled sideways, and Chrome came tumbling out of his hood. He hit the ground with an audible thump, and an irritated yelp.

"Aww, he's so cute!" Georgia said, staring at Chrome with goo-goo eyes.

"I know, he's called Chrome," Willow said, leaning down to pick up the rustic fox.

"I want to pick him up," Georgia said also leaning down to grab Chrome.

"No, I want to hold him," Willow complained.

"But I've never held him before!" Georgia argued.

Harry sighed from between the two girls. Breakfast was going to last a long time. Harry turned away from the two girls to grab a piece of toast, when another voice distracted him.

"Morning Harry," Ginny said, blushing slightly and fiddling with her hands.

"Morning Ginny, you sleep well?" Harry asked.

"Sort of, I managed to finish a book," she admitted.

"I see. What kind of book was it?" Harry asked.

"It was a, um, a rom- I mean, an arithmancy book," Ginny said, stammering over her words. Harry was confused when Ginny refused to make eye contact, and her tantalizing hazel eyes flickered away from his face.

"I didn't know you took arithmancy as a class," Harry said.

"Oh, well, I don't really, I'm just reading because, well, I thought it was interesting," Ginny stammered.

"Right," Harry said, wondering how anyone could find arithmancy interesting, especially from what he'd seen of other's work. Harry eyed Ginny curiously, but she seemed oblivious to his examination, and instead seemed to be taking a big, shaky breath.

"Anyway, Harry, you were going to say something to me last night, but then you passed out," Ginny explained, "Do you remember what you were going to ask?"

Harry racked his brains, trying to remember what had happened last night. He remembered meeting Ginny and Neville at the balcony, and most of the walk back to the common room, but everything after that was a daze.

"Sorry Ginny, I can't really remember anything after I entered the common room. It's one of the side effects of the passium herbs. What did it sound like I was going to say?"

"Nothing," Ginny said in a panic, before calming down, "It's fine, I'm pretty sure it wasn't important. I'll see you around Harry."

Harry watched her walk away. She seemed rather glum, and he ahd half a mind to chase after her, when a tawny owl swooped past him, dropping a letter in the jar of marmalade. Harry withdrew the letter, wiped the edges on his toast, and peeled it open.

_Your motorbike should be fixed tonight, if you want to take a look._

* * *

**Ok, so I'm rather curious. As readers, do you guys and gals think that the first half of this story (so far) was too long? Too boring? I've received a few reviews which criticize the early chapters, but compliment the later ones. What do all you think, my faithful readers? Should I go back and cull the story a little, or leave it as it is?**

Anyway, this here be the next chapter, I hope you enjoy :)

Cheers

**-Council**


	20. Healing and Destruction

The first frosts of snow were settling upon the grassy grounds as Harry made his way, the moonlight glistening upon the pale, bleached ground, lighting the path. Padfoot had finally sent a message confirming that Harry's motorbike was repaired. Well, technically it was Sirius's bike, but Harry wasn't going to part with it without a fight.

He arrived at the familiar clearing in the fringes of the forbidden forest, where Harry had met Sirius countless times before. Harry smiled as he saw the familiar silhouette of his godfather, leaning against the sturdy, black motorbike. Harry noticed, with a frown, that his godfather had removed the midnight green strips Harry had adorned the bike with.

"I see you've been decorating my bike," Harry said coolly, approaching the perpetrator.

"Your bike?" Sirius exclaimed in poorly acted confusion, "I think you might be misunderstanding something Harry. This bike isn't yours."

"Oh really?" Harry stated, folding his arms and facing his godfather.

"No, not O'Reilly, although he is another friend of mine," Sirius joked.

"Can't you go one minute without making a joke," a weary voice said from the shadows, stepping forwards into the moonlight. Harry took note of her long, straight, raven hair that fell down her body, and her pale blue eyes shining in the moonlight. Although not fully Asian, Harry suspected she had at least some Korean or Chinese ancestors. Despite her weary voice, a smile appeared to be gracing her lips as she faced Sirius.

"I have several special people I need to introduce you to tonight," Sirius said to Harry. "First, and most important, I would like you to meet Kahlan." The woman stepped forwards towards Harry, hand out in greeting.

"Kahlan is incredibly important to me. I've known her since she was young, and has been the best thing that's ever happened to me in my life," Sirius continued, and Harry saw, despite the pale moonlight, the woman's pale cheeks flush.

"I am of course, talking about this fine lady," Sirius finished, before walking forwards, raising his arm, and draping it lovingly over the motorbike.

"Also, I picked up some chick along my travels," Sirius added.

"Some chick?" Harry asked, staring incredulously at the woman whose face had transformed in an instant, from embarrassment to rage.

"Yeah, some chic- Argh, my stomach," Sirius keeled over on the ground, clutching his gut, as the woman stood over him victoriously, her fist clenched.

"Oh, so I'm just 'some chick' who's let you sleep with her for the past fortnight. Is that so?" She growled, her foot grinding against his chest.

"Well," Sirius stammered, before yelping in pain as she applied pressure.

"Strangers shouldn't be sleeping together anyway. I think I might have to sleep alone tonight." This threat in particular caused Sirius to pale.

"She's joking!" Sirius managed to wheeze out from his unfortunate positions.

"What was that?" She asked innocently, still stepping on him.

"She's Joken, Kahlan Joken," Sirius said to Harry, who was staring at his godfather disappointingly. "Get it? Joking, Joken?" Harry just sighed, and nodded his head. "By the way, you were joking about what you said earlier, right?" Sirius asked Kahlan, before yelping in pain again.

"Can't you just tie him up or something?" Harry asked her, beginning to feel pity for him.

"I tried once before. It didn't quite work so well," Kahlan admitted, remembering the fluffy pink handcuffs.

"You didn't seem to mind later on that night though," Sirius quipped from the ground.

"Shut up, Sirius!" Kahlan and Harry said simultaneously. They glanced at each other, meeting one another's eyes, before bursting into laughter.

"I'm Harry Potter," Harry said, holding out his hand to her. She smiled, before reaching out and shaking it.

"I know. You probably don't remember this, but I used to babysit you when you were younger," Kahlan explained.

"Really? At the orphanage?" Harry asked. He didn't remember any adult visitors. Kahlan eyes lost some of their shine at the mention of the orphanage.

"No, I mean back when you were just a baby, living with your family." Harry averted his eyes from her then. His family was still a touchy subject.

"They loved you so much, you know that?" Kahlan continued to talk, oblivious to Harry's discomfort. "They would never leave you on your own for even a moment. When they both had to leave, they always had someone come over and babysit. Of course, when they asked Sirius, they also asked me to come over and babysit him."

Harry glanced up at her. It was a strange feeling to be told that your family loved you, when they hadn't made contact with you for the last sixteen years. Still pondering this, Harry was completely shocked when Kahlan reached forward and grabbed his cheeks in her fingers.

"You were so adorable back then," She cooed, stretching and pulling at his cheeks, "And now it seems that you need a shave," she said, smirking as she let go of him, moments before he tried to swipe her hand away.

"I shaved three days ago," Harry said indignantly, causing her to laugh. It was a nice sound, even more pleasant when Sirius joined in, finally standing up, albeit rubbing his chest, where a grassy footprint could be seen on his shirt.

"Listen pup," Sirius said once the laughter faded away, "There's a few more special people I need to introduce to you tonight." Harry was waiting for a pun or a joke to follow that sentence, but it never came. Realizing he wasn't playing around, he decided to listen attentively to his godfather.

"Just listen to them for me, before you leave tonight. Can you do that for me pup?" Sirius asked. Kahlan stepped beside him, placing a hand reassuringly on his forearm. Harry noticed, that for the first time since he'd met him, Sirius looked uncertain.

"I'll listen," Harry promised, nodding his head.

"Excellent," Sirius said happily, "Kahlan, want to send off the signal?" Kahlan nodded, pulled out her wand, and whipped it over her head.

"_Expecto Patronum!_" She cast, allowing a mass of silver to erupt from the end of her wand. The silver, which was neither liquid, nor gas, but something in between, morphed into a shaggy dog, that looked remarkably like Padfoot. Before Harry could remark on the similarities, the dog bounded off into the woods.

"Now, before the mood is ruined, I'd like to give you an Christmas present Harry," Sirius said, smiling once again.

"Eh, you don't have to Sirius," Harry said cautiously, "Actually, if it's coming from you, I'd rather not." Sirius was not deterred however.

"Consider it sixteen years of missed birthday and Christmas presents, alright?" Harry, realizing there was no way to get out of this, simply nodded his head, and prayed he wouldn't regret a gift from a Marauder.

"Now, although it pains me from the very bottom of my heart, I present to you, Kahlan!" Sirius exclaimed. Harry's jaw dropped when he realized that Sirius was returning the bike to him without a fight. Even Kahlan wrapped her arms around his waist in a comforting gesture.

"Wow Sirius," Harry said in disbelief, his voice shaky. "I don't know what to say. Thank you."

"I don't know why you're looking so happy. I'm talking about the girl, not the bike."

* * *

Sitting together, hands clasped together, James and Lily Potter sat by the edge of the Black Lake, patiently awaiting the signal. From afar, they would have looked like any two Hogwarts students, enjoying a phase of rule breaking, and late night wandering. Despite having graduated eighteen years ago, they still acted like teenagers however.

"Alright, truth or dare," James asked his wife.

"Dare, I have too many secrets you're not allowed to know about," Lily replied, smirking.

"Hmph, go jump in a lake," James said, pouting. Lily leaned in and pecked him on the lips, teasingly drawing away when he leaned in for more.

"You know what, that's your dare. Go jump in the lake, you witch," James said, still pouting.

"Are you insane? It's winter! I'll freeze," Lily said, outraged, and eyeing the water nervously.

"You were the one who chose dare," James said nonchalantly, "Now, are you jumping in, or do I have to throw you."

"James, don't you dare!" Lily said sternly, but when he took a step forwards, she squeaked, and stumbled backwards. "I'm warning you James, you'll be sleeping on the- woah! JAMES!" Lily began screaming as an invisible force yanked at her leg, hovering her above the ground, and slowly dragging her onto the lake. She reached for her wand, but groaned in defeat when James waggled it at her from the safety of the shore.

Before James could dunk his wife in the ice chilled water, an act that required true Gryffindor courage, a shiny patronus in the form of a hound barreled out of the woods and towards the lake.

"Ah, it's the signal," James said, looking at the familiar dog. "However, it could be a fake. We need to wait for the password."

"Sirius is an idiot," Kahlan's eerie voice spoke out of the patronus, before both the voice and the dog faded away.

"That's not the password," James exclaimed in outrage.

"You made that the password," Lily screamed, still dangling upside down over the lake."

"Oh yeah, I did too," James said thoughtfully.

"James, that's the signal. Bring me back to the shore right away! Are you listening to me! If you drop me in the lake James you know exactly what will happen to you!"

By now, James was laughing at his wife's predicament. However, he was now old enough to know when a joke went too far, and he would never drop his wife in the winter water.

"Wha' are ye' doing ou' here James?" A gruff voice said from behind James, and he whipped around in surprise to face Hagrid. He relaxed when it was only Hagrid, until a scream, quickly suppressed by a splash caused his whole body to freeze in fear.

"Oh shit," James swore.

Slowly, ever so slowly, James turned around to face the lake. Lily was splashing about in the water, her clothes dragging her down. Not wasting a moment longer, James summoned her out of the water, and with several flicks of his wand he dried and heated her clothes. However, he could tell by the glare on her face that it wasn't enough.

"We will discuss this in length later, James," Lily said through ground teeth, "for now, I have a son to meet." James sighed in relief as Lily stormed off. True, the discussion later on would be horrific, but at least it was later.

"Err, sorry 'bout tha' James," Hagrid muttered apologetically.

"It's not your fault Hagrid," James said, clapping the giant man on the back. They were silent for a moment until James chuckled. "I can't believe I dropped my wife in a lake."

"Yer a brave man James, yer a brave man," Hagrid said, shaking his head, but whether it was in appreciation or disapproval James would never know. "Yeh said you were meeting yer son, was tha' 'Arry?"

"It is," James affirmed. "Haven't seen him in sixteen years, I really don't know what he's going to do. All I know is that I've got to apologize to him."

"Well, if things don' work ou', feel free to come over to my place for a drink," Hagrid said. He paused, thinking about something for a moment, before speaking again. "Actually, if thing do work ou', come along for a drink as well."

"I might just take you up on that Hagrid," James admitted, before chasing after Lily before he lost sight of her. Hagrid chuckled to himself as he watched James run after Lily, already begging for forgiveness. They were a funny couple, but they were some of the finest people he knew.

"I'm really sorry Lily, I swear I didn't mean to do it," James begged, but Lily just flicked her auburn hair at him.

"I swear on the Marauders," James said frantically.

"James, you're not meant to do things like that to someone you-" Lily would have said more, if she hadn't stepped into the clearing at that moment, and seen both Harry and Kahlan pushing Sirius around on the ground.

"What is wrong with you?" Harry shouted. "I don't want your girl. You don't even give people as gifts in the first place. She's not even my girl! Why would I even want her? She's your girl!"

"What is your problem Sirius?" Kahlan shouted. "Don't try and sell me to your godson as a way to keep your motorbike! I spent sixteen years away from you, and right now I'm more than happy to do that all over again!"

"Compared to them, we must look like the perfect couple," James said cheerfully, not even trying to restrain his amusement. Lily leaned into James and wrapped her arms firmly around him.

"I'm sorry I ever doubted you dear," Lily said passionately.

"I'm sorry I dropped you in a lake," James replied, just as passionately. James eventually began to feel pity for his best friend however, and he cleared his throat loudly, announcing himself and Lily. The fighting stopped immediately, and all three members stared at James guiltily for a moment.

And then recognition flittered across Harry's face.

James winced as the child who looked so similar to Ryan, and yet so characteristically different, took a step backwards.

"What are they doing here?" Harry asked. His voice wasn't angry, but cautious.

"Well, that's what I was meant to explain, but you two went crazy and started attacking me," Sirius explained, but he was silenced by a kick from Kahlan.

"The reason why Sirius and I are here tonight was to introduce you to your parents," Kahlan explained, but Harry didn't look appeased.

"After sixteen years?" He replied skeptically.

"Harry, you don't understand," James began, but Lily placed a gentle hand on his forearm.

"I'm pregnant Harry," Lily stated, and Harry's eyes widened noticeably, but he also looked confused as to why she was telling him this. "I'm three months pregnant, and I only found out two weeks ago."

"That's not normal, is it?" Harry asked, being drawn in by the bizarre statement. James hid a smile. Lily already knew how to distract her child.

"No, you'd have to be an idiot to not know you're pregnant by that stage. You probably can't see, but I already have a bump," Lily explained, her voice soft and mesmerizing.

"Two weeks ago, Kahlan removed a memory block in my mind. It had a very specific purpose of making me believe my only child was Ryan. The magic meant that whenever I realized there was something wrong with my body, or realized I was pregnant, my mind would attack itself, tearing those memories to pieces."

"So you were pregnant, without realizing you were pregnant," Harry said slowly.

"Exactly," Lily said encouragingly. There was silence as Harry pondered his next question.

"And how long have you had this memory block for?"

Lily shivered, and James leant over and wrapped an arm reassuringly around her shoulders. Lily opened her mouth, but no words came out.

"For sixteen years," James said softly.

"So you had a child, without realizing you had a child," Harry said sadly. Lily made a choking sound as she tried to hold back the tears, but it seemed a futile effort, and James let her bury her head in his chest.

"We didn't come here too ask for your forgiveness Harry," James said, his voice shaking. "We don't deserve that. We just came to apologize."

"I'm sorry son," James said, lowering his head.

"I'm so sorry darling," Lily sobbed, turning so that she could stare at him. Her emerald eyes were painfully staring back at her.

"I don't need any parents," Harry said resolutely. "I've had to live for sixteen years without parents. I'm officially an adult in the eyes of the wizarding world. I don't need a mother. I don't need a father."

Harry took a step forwards.

"But I've always wanted one," Harry said, his voice catching. "Even if my dad's a scoundrel who drops women in lakes," James had the decency to look guilty, "and my mum's an emotional wreck," Lily gave a chuckle, which ended up as a strangled sob, "but I've always wanted a mum and dad, and if you're what I've got…"

Harry took a deep breath as he stared at his parents, who were clutching one another, each needing support as much as the other.

"And if you're what I've got, then that's what I want."

At that point, Lily completely lost it, and she tore herself form James's grip and flew towards Harry, arms outstretched, red hair blazing behind her. As she gripped Harry in a crushing hug she began to sob uncontrollably.

"Umm, it's alright," Harry said, awkwardly patting her back, "Don't cry, umm, mum." Saying that word only caused her to cry even louder though. "Is she always like this?" Harry asked James, tilting his head so he could stare at his dad.

"All the time," James said with a grin, "However, it's mainly my fault," he admitted.

"I can't believe you dropped my mum into the lake. You're horrible, you know that?" Harry remarked. Sirius fell onto the ground, howling in laughter, but Harry wasn't finished.

"And you, Sirius, I can't believe you had the gall to give me your girlfriend as a Christmas present. You're just as bad," Harry reprimanded, but that just caused Sirius to laugh even harder. Lily chuckled against Harry's shoulder as she slowly loosened her hold on him.

"Our husbands are terrible creatures, aren't they Lily?" Kahlan said coolly,

"They are," Lily agreed, fully detaching from Harry. "I'd say they need to be taught a lesson."

"I concur. How about we let those dogs sleep where they belong tonight?" Kahlan proposed.

"Hey, I'm not a dog, I'm a majestic stag," James said, offended.

"And I'll let you know, a true dog sleeps on his master's bed," Sirius added.

"Enough, both of you are sleeping on the couch tonight, and you shall spend all night thinking about why you deserve to be there," Lily said, and the way she spoke brooked no possibility for reconsideration.

"You're all crazy, you know that right?" Harry said incredulously, looking at the group of middle aged adults acting like children.

"We know," Sirius said, "in fact, we're far crazier then you can imagine." Harry stared at his godfather curiously, while the others exchanged surreptitious glances.

"You're not going to like this, but the wizard who places those memory charms on us was Dumbledore," James explained.

"I should have known," Harry groaned. That old wizard was a freaking nuisance. First using Willow as blackmail, then keeping his parents from him, and from what he could tell, keeping Sirius and Kahlan away as well.

"What's worse is that Albus doesn't quite know that we got rid of those memory charms," James continued.

"And err, also," Sirius added, looking rather awkward, "he kind of thinks that I'm dead."

"You're serious?"

"Well I'm not Joken," Sirius said with a grin, resulting in groans.

"So that means he's not allowed to know that I met any of you," Harry confirmed.

"Pretty much," James admitted, "And even worse, he's a legilimens." At Harry's blank stare, James expanded. "He can read minds."

"So, basically, we're trying to keep a secret from a cranky old bastard who can read minds?" Harry asked.

"We've all trained in occlumency, a way to keep him out of our minds, but you well…" Sirius trailed off. "I've seen your magic skills, and no offence pup, but you'll never master occlumency."

"Then what do I do?" Harry exclaimed.

"You'll just have to act like nothing's wrong, so that he has no suspicions to read your mind. Also, avoid eye contact," James warned.

"So basically my long lost family came to tell me that if I act like I've met my long lost family, they will once again become long lost?" Harry asked.

"We're sorry darling," Lily said sadly. "We'd love to announce to the whole world that we've found you, but…"

"It's not your fault. It's just irritating. It feels unfair." Harry sighed heavily. "And I don't suppose I can tell Ryan about any of this either, can I?"

"As of now, he spends too much time directly with Dumbledore to keep it a secret," James explained sadly, "Don't get me wrong, I have complete faith that my son wouldn't willingly give up the information, but Dumbledore has been known to periodically mentally probe those he works with. Ryan wouldn't be an exception."

"Still, try and play nice with him," Lily pleaded.

"I'll try," Harry promised, but he grimaced at the thought of what that would entail.

"Now Harry, curfew ends in five minutes, you should get going before you get in trouble," Lily said, and suddenly Harry understood why teenagers were constantly irritated at mothers all around the world.

"Leave him be Lily, there's nothing wrong with breaking a few rules," Sirius said.

"I will not be having my son breaking rules if he can help it," Lily huffed. "I will not be raising another generation of Marauders." Lily turned to Harry and gave him one last crushing hug. "Welcome to the family darling."

"You," she said, spinning around and glaring at James, "are to get your arse back home and on the couch, you understand?"

"Yes sweetheart," James said obediently, but not before walking over and shaking Harry's hand.

"It's good to have you in the family, son," James said, a mischievous grin on his face as he slipped a piece of paper into Harry's hand. With a pop, James disappeared. Lily blew Harry a kiss before disappearing as well.

"Well," Sirius said, stretching his back, "time for us to go and make some sweet love."

"I don't think so," Kahlan said harshly, "You're sleeping on the couch tonight."

"Night pup, I leave Kahlan in your care," Sirius said with a wink before disappearing.

"Do you think he meant the bike, or you?" Harry asked Kahlan, who simply huffed in irritation.

"Knowing that man, hopefully the bike, but probably me. I'll see you around Harry." Then Kahlan disappeared and Harry was left alone with the familiar motorbike and a slip of paper clenched in his hand. He carefully unfurled his fist and unfolded the message.

_Meet Padfoot and I at Hagrid's in thirty minutes. We purposely got sent to the couches so we could sneak out._

_-Prongs_

* * *

"To all units, use of deadly force is authorized, but not recommended. There are too many civilians inside," the magically enhanced voice stated amidst the fear and the flames. Kingsley Shacklebolt, leader of a squad of units confirmed that his wand was secured firmly at his wrist, and that he had an abundance of sickles in his pocket.

The situation was dismal. With the Ministry's refusal of Voldemort's return, the aurors had not been stationed at key locations. Because of that, the only magical medical institution in all of Great Britain was under attack. The Muggle repellant charms upon the building that disguised it as an red bricked, soon to be renovated clothing store had been destroyed, and now even the Muggles of London could see the columns of dreary smoke seeping out of the five story building.

"Team Shock, move up," Kingsley commanded, his deep voice rumbling. He led his team to the entrance of the, everyone with wands in hands, cautiously eyeing the windows of the hospital, hoping the Death Eaters wouldn't fire down upon them. Kingsley flung himself beside the entrance doors to the hospital, his deep, sleeveless, purple robe fluttering around him. Because he would be entering a building, he wouldn't be able to borrow power from the skies, so he was instead relying on his internal power. The winding tattoos decorating his forearms and biceps were throbbing and pulsing with bright light from the amount of energy stored within.

"I'll clear, you follow," Kingsley ordered his aurors. There were six of them under his command, making it a full team of seven. Team Lion, led by Rufus Scrimgeour, was breaching from the roof through broomsticks. Anti-apparation wards had been constructed, forcing the aurors to enter the hospital physically.

Kingsley's team replied in affirmation, and with wands out and ready, lined themselves up behind him, on either side of the door. Taking a deep breath, Kingsley reached into his pocket and withdrew a silver sickle. Holding the coin firmly in between his fingers, he blew down the door off its hinges with an explosive curse. As it flung down the hallway, causing panic and confusion, Kingsley flicked his fingers, and the sickle went spinning into the centre of the room.

Before it hit the ground, Kingsley snapped his fingers, and a bolt of lighting erupted from his fingertips, striking the coin. The next moment, a pulsing shockwave erupted from the now blackened silver metal. All inhabitants of the room were struck by the sudden electrical discharge, and they collapsed to the ground, shaking, as their muscles refused to respond. Moments later, Kingsley's team had breached the room, and had formed a large, semi circle, so that curses could be thrown across the room without the danger of friendly fire.

"Two hostiles, and two civilians Shacklebolt," one auror stated, causing Kingsley to feel relieved that he had not used lethal force, and had instead subdued them.

"Contact the evacuation team, tell them to clean up the ground floor. We'll continue upstairs," Kingsley ordered, and watched as an auror summoned a hawk patronus that flew outside to the remaining team. It appeared that the Death Eaters had been using the civilians as hostages in an attempt to slow down the Kingsley's team.

There were two ways upstairs, the stairs and the lift. The lift was magically operated, but it appeared that the Death Eaters had deactivated it. Despite that, it appeared the lift was based on the metallic Muggle versions.

"You six take the stairs, I'll take the lift. I'll blind them. You are cleared to enter after you hear the explosion," Kingsley explained, and watched his aurors head towards the stairs. He headed for the lift, and finding that the metallic doors didn't open for him, he pried his fingers inbetween the doors, and with a grunt of effort and bulging muscles, he peeled open the doors.

Standing inside the lift, Kingsley let his magic loose. Lightning flickered off of his body, spreading to the floor of the lift, and then rushing up the sides of the metallic box. The lift began to crackle, and flicker with sudden, impromptu bursts of light. Kingsley pressed the button for the first floor, and felt relieved when the lift jumped, and began moving. He hadn't been entirely sure that his plan would work, as his knowledge of Muggle technologies were not formidable.

The ride would only take ten seconds, so he quickly got to work in sending an influx of energy into a silver sickle. The coin overheated, and began glowing a hissing orange, but not before it was coated in a ball of lightning. The lift stopped, a warbled chime played before being short circuited, and the doors opened. Kingsley banished the overheated coin out the lift as soon as their was a gap. Countless bursts of spell fire smashed into the metal doors, but as long as they were still in the process of opening, they provided Kingsley with cover.

There was a deafening explosion as the overheated sickle exploded in a burst of blinding white light. Kingsley could hear the death eaters shouting to one another in a panic as they tried to recover from the blindness. However, because it was not a magical curse, but actual damage to their eyes, there was little they could do to recover. Kingsley heard his team move into the room, stunning the witches and wizards, retrieving their wands, and incarcerating them in unbreakable, steel chains.

"Other than the hostilies, everyone on the floors is dead," an auror reported to Shacklebolt.

"Everyone?" Kingsley queried, his voice rumbling.

"Everyone, even the healers," the auror confirmed.

"We need to advance to the next floor now, Team Shock, move up with me," Kingsley ordered. He couldn't use the lift again, as he was pretty sure he had fried most of the inner circuits. It had been worth it though. They had subdued four dark wizards without a single injury.

His team moved up to the second floor, but it was devoid of any human life. All the patients were murdered, along with the healers. Kingsley refused to show any emotion, but inside he was panicing. This was definitely the work of Voldemort. He was crippling Great Britains medical system. After today, there would be no place for injured aurors to go to recover from their battle wounds. The aurors would fall to the Death Eaters in a matter of weeks.

As Team Shock made their way to the third floor, a silvery patronus lion interrupted them. It belonged to Rufus Scrimegour, as was obvious when it started speaking in the man's, rough voice.

"Shacklebolt, we secured the roof, and retrieved the hostages on the fifth floor, but they set fire to the fourth floor for spell damage patients. It was fiend fyre, and it's consumed the whole floor. We're retreating with the hostages, we suggest you evacuate immediately after clearing the third floor."

"What do we do, Shacklebolt?" an auror asked, looking nervous. He had a right to be as well. Fiend fyre was deadly. Even just a small flame on the bare skin would kill a wizard.

"Half of you remain at the stair case and contain the fire for as long as possible. Send a patronus when you're forced to retreat. The rest of you will clear the floor with me and recover as many hostages as possible."

They emerged on the third floor, and three aurors went to work immediately at transforming objects into steel walls to plug up the staircase that led to the fourth floor. Kingsley and the three other aurors advanced forwards cautiously, wary that the group of wizard Team Lion was pursuing had to be on this floor. When they walked by the first infirmary ward however, and saw the blood splattered walls, and dead healers and patients they sped up. If they were cautious they wouldn't save anyone.

They were halfway across the building when they first saw the enemy. A dozen hooded wizards were facing a resistance group of healers, who were sending a myriad of angry curses at the murderers. It was an honourable stand, but they were ultimately healers, not fighters, and Kingsley had to watch as two healers were impaled by dozens of banished scalpels.

"Attack, deadly force is authorized," Kingsley ordered. His aurors were effective. One animated a fallen statue of an owl and an eagle, and summoned a thin razor wire to be held in each creature's beak. The two winged birds then flew into the mesh of hooded wizards, the razor wire slicing two in half, their insides leaking out, before they were banished. One auror burst-cast at a rapid speed three exploding curses, which hit two of its targets. The final auror, charmed the blood, which was now splattering across the room from the gruesomely killed wizards, into darts which rained down upon their allies.

Kingsley himself sent an overpowered, crackling volt of lightning from his wand, but was surprised when the Death Eater he targeted not only split the bolt in two, but then sent the deadly attacks crashing into the healer's resistance force. Kingsley banished several of his sickles at the bolt, and it drained enough of the energy that when it hit the healers, it didn't kill, but merely incapacitated.

The enemy forces, now drastically thinned by the auror's surprise attack, realized that the auror's were behind them, and with an order from the one who had split the lightning bolt, began to retreat past the fallen healers.

"You three, evacuate the healers and patients and regroup with the other three. I'll keep the enemy away from you," Kingsley shouted, chasing after the remaining seven dark wizards. As he chased them down the long corridor, they didn't even stop to cast curse back at him. They seemed intent on escaping, which confirmed Kingsley's theories that it was indeed a hit-and-run attack in order to destroy England's only medical facility.

"Stop!" Kingsley demanded, his voice echoing down the corridor. He waved his wand, and sent a whip of electricity towards the dark wizards. Once again, the wizard who deflected his first attack banished the crackling whip with a wave of his own wand. Instead of fleeing with the rest of his allies however, he stopped running and faced Kingsley.

"Buying time for your friends to leave?" Kingsley asked, pointing his wand threateningly at the cloaked wizard.

"Not likely. I just want the honour of being the one who killed Shacklebolt," the wizard sneered.

"Ah, Malfoy, I should have known," Kingsley said, recognizing the voice. Waving his wand, he sent a multitude of bouncing balls of pure electricity towards Malfoy. In response he drew his cane, and swished it at the ceiling. Kingsley was forced to jump forwards as the roof came crashing down, bringing with it the roaring fiend fyre. The fiend fyre enveloped the electric balls, consuming the magic greedily. Malfoy rushed towards Kingsley, who was struggling to stand, and unsheathed his cane, revealing a pristine metallic blade.

Kingsley coated his left arm in lightning, and swung it at the incoming blade to protect his body. The lightning created enough resistance to save his arm, but blood sprayed outwards as the weapon dug into his arm. Although in agonizing pain, Kingsley, leapt up to his feet, and with his right hand grabbed Malfoy's face, simultaneously releasing a pulse of energy. He managed to fdissolvery the black mask Lucius wore, but before he could fry the man's brain he had to roll out of the way as the fiend fyre roared down upon them.

Kingsley glanced behind him and saw that the fiend fyre had completely enveloped the corridor, and that he, Malfoy and the remaining dark wizards were trapped at the end of the third floor. Despite that, Malfoy didn't seem worried. In fact he simply sneered at Kingsley, moments before the wall behind him exploded outwards, causing plaster and brick to cascade down fifteen meters, a drop that would kill Kingsley if he fell.

Before he could stop them, the dark wizards, along with Malfoy, drew and enlarged broomsticks from within their robes and flew out of the hole, leaving Kingsley along with the raging fire. Kingsley wished he had a broomstick, but only Team Lion, who had infiltrated from the roof, had been equipped with broomsticks.

Kingsley didn't panic though. He was a man that never panicked. It was why he was constantly put in charge of auror teams. A large chunk of the ceiling gave way, causing more of the deadly fire to waterfall downwards. Immediately afterwards, the fiend fyre erupted down the hallway into a giant fireball, heading directly towards the easiest exit, which just happened to behind Kingsley.

Acting on instinct, Kingsley turned around, and after three powerful strides, threw himself out of the gaping hole. His purple robes fluttered around him as he began to fall to the ground, the wind whistling around him. The ground was rushing towards him far too fast, until suddenly Rufus crashed into him on his broomstick. The two of them crashed into the ground moments later, but Rufus having broken his fall, Kingsley was all right.

"Your team suggested that you might need a little help in there after you left them alone," Rufus said gruffly, pulling himself up and dusting off his clothes. "You should thank them for their consideration."

"Did they escape?" Kingsley asked, trying not to think about the agonizing, bleeding slice in his arm.

"Yes. We weren't expecting them to have an escape plan that wasn't apparation or portkeys," Rufus explained.

"And how many survivors are there?" Kingsley asked, already dreading the question.

"Every healer and patient from the first, second and fourth floor are dead. Over fifty visitors and patients were rescued from the fifth floor, and you rescued seven healers from the third floor, and two from the ground floor."

Kingsley was silent as he tried he realized the extent of destruction the dark wizards had caused.

"So over five hundred patients and over ninety percent of the healers are dead," Kingsley said, his voice deep, rumbling, and as always, calm. Rufus nodded in acknowledgement. What was he supposed to say?

"I'll inform the Ministry of what happened," Kingsley said, following protocol. Maybe this time, the Ministry would finally believe that Voldemort had returned. It was obvious that this was a Death Eater attack. The only thing missing was the dark mark in the skies.

Kingsley apparated to the Ministry and made his way immediately to the Minister. He barged past the secretary, and in his rush, slammed open the doors to the Minister of Magic's office.

"Fudge, there's been a problem…" Kingsley began, but his voice died away as he spotted Fudge chatting amiably with none other than Lucius Malfoy.

"My boy! Look at you, you look horrible?" Fudge exclaimed.

"Yes, what exactly did happen to you, Shacklebolt," Malfoy said softly from behind Fudge. Kingsley stared at the man, his teeth clenched, his eyes harsh and empty, but the man simply smirked back.

The Ministry would not be announcing the return of Voldemort tonight.

* * *

**An attack on St Mungos! How often does that happen in Fanfiction? I'm hoping now often, but knowing my luck, it's probably been done in every single story I haven't read... hehe..**

**Anyway, favoruite, follow, review, or the most popular choice, just read and ignore the rest of those annoying buttons and text boxes.**

**Cheers**

**-Council**


	21. 26 hours 7 days a week

Harry stared at the food in front of him, the currently unappetizing scents making him feel nauseous. He lowered his head into his arms, wishing that he were not in the great hall, but rather tucked in and sleeping in his cozy bed. He heard the sound of someone dumping their book bag on the ground, and collapsing on the bench beside him, but he found he didn't have the energy to look up at the newcomer.

"Morning Harry," the familiar voice asked, and Harry found the resolve to tilt his head, and open a single bleary eye. He spied a waterfall of fiery hair blocking his vision, reinforcing his earlier assumption.

"Morning Ginny," Harry groaned.

"You alright?" She asked, her chocolate eyes flashing with concern.

"Let's just call it a stomach ache and leave it at that," Harry grumbled before burying his head back in his arms. He was like that for several minutes until he felt a cool porcelain dish push against his arms. He glanced up, instantly feeling nauseous again as he stared at a plate of eggs and bacon.

"Eat up," Ginny mothered, "you won't survive the day if you don't eat breakfast."

"Just leave me alone," Harry muttered, but he nonetheless straightened up, grabbed a piece of toast and began nibbling on the edge. Now that he was sitting up properly, Ginny's face grew concerned, as Harry realized she could probably now see the dark rings weighing down his eyes. His hair was a mess too, even more hazardous and unkempt then usual.

"You sure you're alright?" She asked again.

"I'm fine. I just can't believe those bloody idiots drunk that much. They're adults, for goodness sake," Harry growled, "Hagrid, I can understand drinking a whole keg, but Padfoot and Prongs…" Harry's voice trailed off as he remembered last night, and Sirius's 'great' idea for a drinking contest. Harry could hear Ginny muttering about boys and their idiotic drinking activities, until she suddenly stopped as if hit with an epiphany.

"You were with your father last night?" Ginny exclaimed, rather loudly, and Harry quickly shushed her, glancing around the table, hoping no one had over heard here. James had made it incredibly clear that no one, specifically Dumbledore, was to know of their meeting.

"I'll talk to you about it later," Harry whispered, "Just please don't tell anyone, and whatever you do, don't look into Dumbledore's eyes." Ginny raised her eyebrows in skepticism, but eventually nodded.

"How'd you know about Prongs?" Harry asked.

"I overheard Ryan telling Fred and George during a summer when they were talking about the Marauder's map." Ginny explained, causing Harry to nod his head in understanding. James and Sirius had indeed bragged about that map to him last night.

"Anyway, I didn't cast you as one for drinking," Ginny asked, sounding slightly disappointed. Harry sighed. He hadn't exactly cast him as a drinker either. James and Sirius had seen otherwise though, and hadn't taken no for an answer.

Harry was about to refute her observation, when suddenly the owl post arrived. The billowing, choppy wind concocted of hundreds of wings, mixed with the feeble, encompassing hooting made practically any conversation impossible as countless owls swooped into the great hall. People could be heard groaning as the owls crashed into their breakfasts and knocked over the goblets of juice and beakers of water. The only one in the room who looked happy that the owls had arrived was a rustic firefox, who stuck his head out of Harry's hood, and began yapping excitedly. A tawny owl dropped a rolled up newspaper on Ginny's lap, clicking its beak impatiently as it waited for its payment. It grew even more impatient when Chrome leapt off of Harry's shoulders, and began scrambling across the table, chasing the frantically hopping, terrified owl.

Harry watched Ginny reach into her pockets, and grimace when she only pulled out three knuts, three short of the payment. Feeling bad for the girl, Harry reached into his pocket, but not having any knuts on hand, had to console the bird with a whole silver sickle. Not expecting the bird to understand the concept of change, Harry sighed at the lost money, and his now, grossly over charged, magical newspaper. The good news was that Chrome was still giving the owl hell. The blue eyed fox had somehow managed to cough up a spout of flames that had singed the owl's tail wings, who was now making a chaotic get away, crashing into other retreating owls.

"You didn't have to do that," Ginny snapped at Harry.

"Well you didn't have enough for the paper, what was I supposed to do," Harry asked, rather surprised at her hostility. Ginny flushed red in embarrassment and pushed the measly knuts towards him.

"I'll pay you the other half next week," Ginny muttered, staring at her lap.

"What are you talking about?" Harry exclaimed, "I paid for the paper, it's mine, not yours now. You don't have to pay me anything." Without waiting for a response Harry pushed the knuts back towards her, pulled open the newspaper with a snap and read the headlines. He noticed that Ginny still seemed disgruntled with the deal as she slid the bronze coins into her pocket.

"St. Mungo's burnt to the ground in dark terrorist attack," Harry read, "Minster Fudge proclaims that evidence suggests escaped convict Sirius Black is the mastermind." Harry threw the paper on the table in disgust. It was obviously not his Godfather who had burned down the only medical institution in Great Britain. The Minster of Magic was obviously an idiot.

Ginny gingerly picked up the newspaper, wiped the remnants of honey and butter off of the front page, and read the rest of the article silently. With nothing left to distract himself, Harry glanced around the table, looking for his other friends. He noticed the rest of the Gryffindor's were all looking noticeably somber as the Prophet's headlines made its way across the students. Ron, Ryan and Hermione appeared to be in a vehement, whispered discussion, and Neville… well, Neville was nowhere to be seen.

"Hey Ginny, you haven't seen Neville this morning, have you?" Harry asked. He frowned when he didn't receive a response, and he asked again, this time rapping the newspaper that was blocking her from view with his fist. When she pulled the paper down, Harry was shocked to see her face pale, her freckles standing out prominently.

Are you all right?" Harry asked, repeating the question she asked him earlier.

"I'm fine, it's just the article…" Ginny seemed incredibly shocked about the attack.

"I know, it's terrible," Harry agreed, but Ginny shook her head.

"No, it's not that it's," she paused, hesitating to tell Harry. "It's nothing. What were you asking?"

Harry frowned at her, but didn't push. It was her right to have secrets after all. "Have you seen Neville this morning?"

"I did actually," Ginny replied, looking up from the paper, "I was up early, couldn't sleep properly, and heard McGonagall come into the common room looking for him. Don't know what it was about, but she looked pretty distraught."

"Right," Harry said, distracted. He hoped Neville was all right. McGonagall was up at the head table, so he obviously wasn't still with the head of house. Chrome was still prowling along the table, scavenging for scraps of food. Ginny held out a folded up piece of toast to the teenage fox, who eagerly snapped it up.

"I'm going to class now Harry," Ginny said quickly, folding up the newspaper and slipping it in her book bag. "I'll see you at lunch?"

"Yeah, sure," he replied, but she was already running off. Harry sighed, wondering what was bothering her. His musing was interrupted when Chrome began hacking violently. Harry frowned at the rustic fox, who eventually coughed up the piece of toast Ginny had given him, along with three, bronze knuts that were hidden within.

"She really wanted me to keep the money, didn't she Chrome," Harry asked his familiar, who simply gave him a baleful stare, as if blaming him for ruining his breakfast. Harry noticed Chrome staring down at his plate of food, piled with heaps of bacon and several eggs, all that was untouched, excluding a half nibbled slice of toast.

"Go ahead," Harry motioned, "But we're leaving in two minutes for Defence Against the Dark Arts."

It only took the hungry fox thirty seconds.

* * *

After breakfast Harry made his way to Defence Against the Dark Arts, and he would have arrived on time if it were not for his brother's antics. Professor Lupin's classroom was on the second floor, but as Harry walked up the first flight of stairs, he spotted the familiar, raven hair that could only belong to someone in the Potter family. What was most curious was that Ryan, for with that hair it could only have been Ryan, was sprinting in the opposite direction of Harry.

Wondering what his brother was getting up to now, Harry decided to take chase. His feet pounded against the empty corridor as he chased after Ryan, who had just slipped around a corner. Harry followed close behind, his black school robes billowing around him awkwardly. He would have been able to run faster without the cumbersome robes, but on schooldays such clothing was compulsory, and currently a hindrance.

Harry chased his brother around several, sharp bending corridors, well aware that classes had begun by this point, but he was growing irritated that he hadn't gained any ground on his brother. Harry was the physically fitter brother, as Ryan had focused on Quidditch, and Harry on long distance running and weights, so the fact that Ryan could outrun him was infuriating.

Suddenly, Harry barreled around a corner, his shoes slipping slightly on the smooth floor, polished to perfection by none other than Flich, and stared down the corridor devoid of human life. The corridor was empty, excluding a single suit of armour, standing proudly at attention, several chattering portraits, and various closed windows that allowed for a wondrous view of the Great Lake.

Harry swore, wondering where his brother had gone, but it was obvious that he wasn't going to find him. Harry grudgingly turned around and began making his way back to Defence Against the Dark Arts. Despite being already late, James and Sirius had told Harry last night to partake in this class in particular. They wouldn't explain why, but Harry trusted them, admittedly, Sirius more than James.

Actually, the more Harry thought about it, the more he realized that he trusted neither Sirius nor James. Knowing Sirius, Harry was probably walking into a sex ed class.

Either way, Harry found himself outside the classroom door, and after a moments hesitation, he pushed the heavy wooden door open, budging it with his shoulder. He stepped into the classroom, and lowered his head in apology to Professor Lupin, who had paused in his lecture to stare at Harry. Lupin opened his mouth to say something, but Harry suddenly spotted an all too familiar mop of raven hair in the classroom.

"Ryan!" Harry shouted loudly, "How the hell did you get here?" Ryan stared at him, half amused, half irritated.

"I got here on time, that's how," Ryan explained slowly, as if talking to a three year old.

"But I saw you outside just a minute ago," Harry exclaimed. By now the class was looking at Harry like he was crazy. Before Ryan could reply, Professor Lupin cleared his throat.

"Ryan has been here all class harry," he said, not harshly, but neither kindly. Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Lupin cut him off, "You'll see me after class to talk about both your tardiness and your attitude towards your fellow students."

Harry was too confused to argue, so he meekly sat down at a free desk. He didn't even pretend to listen as Lupin began his lecture once again. The rest of the class scribbled down notes, and later began experimenting with wand movements, but Harry found he couldn't care less. At Lupin's questioning gaze, Harry attempted the spell once, but after setting his desk alight, Lupin left him alone.

All too soon class ended, and Harry's mysteries were unsolved. He was called up by Lupin, who continued to look at him with a mask of indifference. That was, until the last student had left the class, and the door was closed with a slam. As if the loud noise has snapped the ragged looking man out of a stupor, a large, wolfy smile slid across his face.

"Although I was initially disappointed I couldn't join Padfoot and Prongs for some midnight drinking last night, looking at your face, I'm rather glad I had some essays that needed marking," Lupin said, mirth sparkling in his eyes. "I daresay you would feel much better after some hangover potion. In fact, I think I might have some laying around here…" Lupin began rummaging around his desk, searching for particular objects that he was throwing in a worn, satchel bag,

"I- Some what?" Harry asked, confused as to the man's sudden change of personality.

"Hangover potion, does the exact opposite of what it sounds like it does. I have no doubt that Padfoot and Prongs have taken them, but I also have no doubt that after the shouting their beloveds will give them, they'll still have a raging headache."

"I'm sorry professor, but what's going on?" Harry asked. The events from last night, and the mystery of his brother, and now Lupin's peculiarities were causing a throbbing headache.

"Aha, here, drink this, and then I'll explain," Lupin said, sliding a bottled, clear potion across the desk. Harry uncorked the potion, and gave it an experimental sniff before downing it. It tasted of mint, and made him gag, just as if one swallowed their toothpaste, yet moments later he was feeling incredibly clear headed.

"Thanks for that, I'm feeling much better now," Harry admitted, "But can you explain what's going on now?" Lupin pulled out an old, battered wind up watch, and frowned when he saw the time.

"Ah, ten thirty, that's no good, we're running out of time, my next class starts in five minutes." As if to reinforce his verbal thinking, the wooden door thudded soundly as a student tried to push his way in, but Lupin had earlier locked it.

"You said you'd explain!" Harry exclaimed. Harry was beginning to recover his lost headache, and he imagined he imagined that he was beginning to feel like his father and godfather after their women had shouted at them.

"And so I did," Lupin agreed, "And so what do we need?"

"More time," Harry grumbled.

"Exactly," Lupin said, rather too brightly for Harry's liking. Before he could protest, Lupin grabbed Harry's shoulder, and dragged him over to his office, which was connected to the classroom. With Lupin incredibly close beside him, the ragged professor slipped a necklace over both their necks.

Watching his Professor spin a beautifully crafted golden hourglass upside down twice, Harry tired to ask what he was doing, but the next moment he felt the world around him vibrate. Harry didn't quite understand what was going on, but he could tell by the rapidly shifting sunlight shining through the single window in the office that something very peculiar was happening.

As soon as the experience began it was over, and Harry felt himself breathing heavily. He stared around the office, but it was completely undisturbed as from before the strange, vibrating experience. The only difference was the amount of sunlight streaming through the window and…

"Ah, eight thirty, perfect," Lupin muttered, hastily stowing his wind up watch away.

"Professor, you cannot seriously tell me that we just travelled back in time," Harry asked, his voice full of disbelief.

"Come now Harry, I thought you were the one traversing around the school claiming that magic could do anything," Lupin said in amusement, clearly enjoying teasing his student.

"But- but this is time itself we're talking about here," Harry spluttered.

"Indeed, surely after space dimension travelling, you're not still surprised," Lupin said, smiling gently.

"You're talking about apparation, right?" Lupin nodded. "Bloody hell. Time travel, space travel, next you'll be telling that you actually know the Doctor's identity, and that it's Merlin."

"I can assure you Harry, time turners did not exist in Merlin's time," Lupin said, his friendly persona slipping as he became the professor Harry knew.

"Great, so Merlin came from the future then," Harry muttered irately. Lupin looked to be about to respond but Harry cut him off. "This isn't the point, none of this is relevant. You said you were going to explain what was going on before we ran out of time, care to continue?"

"We're still short on time, according to my watch, in two minutes I'm going to enter the classroom from breakfast. We should really get moving," Lupin explained, before hurriedly rushing out of the office.

"Wait, what's wrong if you see yourself?" Harry asked him.

"First, my past self doesn't know that I'm going to be time travelling, so my past self's first reaction would be an imposter in polyjuice potion, or Tonks playing a prank on me under the order of Padfoot. Either way, the results wouldn't be pretty," Lupin lectured.

"And second?"

"Second, well, my past self never saw my future self. Meaning that if I were to reveal myself to my past self, my past self would react differently, and he wouldn't use the time turner in quite the same way, meaning we shouldn't be existing as of now, and thus-"

"We would cease to exist," Harry deadpanned.

"Well, not 'we' necessarily. Another one of us would be most definitely alive and healthy, but the current us would indeed cease to exist." Harry was silent as he tried to take everything in.

"You don't happen to have another one of those hangover potions do you," Harry groaned, clutching his head, the headache growing even worse. Lupin chuckled softly, before dragging him out of the classroom and hiding behind a suit of armour, only moments before the past Lupin casually strolled past.

"The best thing is just to not worry about it," Lupin said compassionately, as he took off walking down a corridor towards the first floor, Harry following earnestly. "Because no matter how much you worry, if you mess things up, you won't even remember that you messed things up, considering the current you will just cease to exist. For all we know, this could have been the six millionth time we've gone through this process."

"You're not helping," Harry said, groaning. They finally descended the stairs to the first floor, just as Harry realized that the scene looked nostalgically familiar.

"Professor," Harry said warily.

"Considering we're breaking enough laws to send us to Azkaban right now, we're past the student-teacher relationship. Call me Remus."

"Wait, this is illegal," Harry said, blanching.

"With the amount of people that went mad after seeing themselves, of course it is," Lupin stated, seemingly unconcerned. Harry knew that he had been a Marauder, but he never realized that the group had cared so little about rules.

Suddenly, Lupin's statement about people seeing themselves caused Harry to realize why the first floor was feeling like deja vû.

"Remus, run!" Harry hissed, and he fortunately realized the importance, and launched himself into a sprint. Harry couldn't understand how anyone, magical or non magical, could run as fast as Remus currently did. Harry couldn't help but suspect there was some secret hidden within the ragged man.

Harry didn't have time to ponder though. He began chasing after Remus, who obviously knew where he was going, swearing as his robes hindered his running, just as they had the last time. He swerved around the corner, and in his peripherals he glanced his past self, struggling to run in the cumbersome school robes, chasing him. He had been right the first time; only a Potter could have such trademark raven hair. He had been wrong however about which Potter it was. Harry hadn't chased Ryan earlier; he had chased himself.

It now made sense why his past self couldn't seem to gain any ground on the raven haired man. It was because he had been racing himself, at the exact same speed. At the last corner, right before he was meant to disappear, Harry even felt his shoes slide on the exact same polished floor, bless Filch. Remus was standing beside the window, and Harry began panicking. They and only seconds to disappear before his past self hurtled around the corner, and Remus was casually standing beside a window.

Before Harry could complain however, Remus launched himself at the window, and Harry, expecting a loud crash and fragments of glass to litter the ground, ultimately changing the past and erasing his existence, stared in shock as Remus simply vanished.

Realizing he only had moments, Harry followed Remus's lead and threw himself at the window. He had expected some sort of resistance, but there was surprisingly nothing. He just passed through as if the window had never been there in the first place.

"Bloody hell, now I understand what you mean by time turners driving people insane," Harry groaned, slumping against a wall within the unlit room. "I had been going crazy during your class, trying to figure out how Ryan had been in two places at once. Turns out it was just me all along."

"Yes well, hopefully the next time you see your doppelganger running away from you, you won't chase it," Remus said, smiling gently, not even out of breath.

"Unless it actually turns out to be Ryan," Harry stated, "Or someone drinking polyjuice potion, or Tonks doing something sketchy."

"Hm, yes, well," Remus pondered this for a moment before sighing. "I guess it's going to be like this every time then." Harry stared at him suspiciously.

"What do you mean next time?"

"You haven't wondered why none of the teachers have been teaching you how to control your fire magic, have you?" Remus asked, his voice weary all of a sudden. He sat down in the unlit room, and gestured for Harry to sit down, a gesture Harry could barely see in the dimly lit room.

"Well, yeah, kind of," Harry admitted.

"It's because Dumbledore specifically stated that we were not to teach you anything outside of the Hogwart's curriculum. In particular he asked us to start with first year spells," Lupin explained, and Harry remembered the countless feather he had lit on fire during charms trying to master the basic _wingardium leviosa_ charm.

"At the time I didn't think anything of it. I am greatly indebted to Albus Dumbledore, so oftentimes I acted on his orders without thinking. I doubt Sirius and James told you, as they do respect my need for privacy, but I am a werewolf. Albus made it possible for me to attend Hogwarts, and for that, I'll be eternally grateful."

"However, in the past two weeks I have learned some rather unsavory things about that man. The day after Kahlan repaired your parent's minds, they called for me, and explained what Albus had done to them."

"They felt it safe to tell you, even though they knew you were so close to Dumbledore?" Harry questioned suspiciously.

"I was surprised too. However, I had forgotten just how much James and Sirius valued out friendship. They had faith that I would listen to them. Once I realized that, I had no choice but to side with them." Even in the darkness, Harry could see Remus's smile. It was like years were taken off his face as he was reminded of his old school friends.

"More importantly, I am an expert in Defence Against the Dark Arts, and therefore skilled in Occlumency. They could tell me the information, and I would be able to keep it hidden from Albus. I wasn't happy with keeping information from Albus, and I'm still not, but for the sake of my old friends, I'm doing it."

"Alright, so my parents trust you, you trust them. What does that have to do with this," Harry growled out, confused.

"Quite simply, in place of the other teachers, and as of the request of your parents, I will teach you how to wield your fire magic," Remus exclaimed proudly.

"So why all this time travelling madness then?" Harry asked.

"Because as of right now, as far as anyone knows, I am currently teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts on the second floor, in a classroom containing twenty children, including you. This is the only way we can hide your training from Albus, as he has you under surveillance twenty-four seven. However, we just made your day twenty-six hours long, so we now have two hours when we know he's not watching us," Remus explained smugly. Harry reasoned that this was probably his idea.

"Couldn't I have just trained at night with Sirius? I met up with his last night just fine," Harry said, stating what seemed to be the obvious solution.

"The reason why it took two weeks for James and Lily to meet you was because we spent so long planning a way to distract Albus for a whole night. Trust me, that wasn't easy," Remus said with a smirk on his face.

"Fine, fine" Harry grumbled under his breath.

"Also, if you're practicing fire magic in the middle of the night on the Hogwart's grounds, someone's bound to notice just by looking out the window," Remus said, continuing to lecture, now in professor mode.

"Alright, I get it," Harry exclaimed, "I just don't like messing around with time. It makes me feel nervous."

"You're not wrong to be nervous, but we don't have many other options," Lupin admitted. "Now, we have spent enough of our precious time talking. Let's begin training," and with a flick of his fingers, several throbbing orbs of light flew out of his outstretched fingers towards several lanterns around the room.

"I managed to teach your brother the patronus charm in his third year. I have no doubts I'll be able to teach you to control your fire magic," Lupin proclaimed.

"So, what do I do?" Harry asked eagerly, standing up, wand drawn. Finally, after all those useless weeks in Hogwarts he was going to learn something.

"Survive," Lupin said grimly, before hurling a barrage of colourful curses at his best friend's son.

* * *

Neville stood on the streets of London, staring in desolation at the charred remains of the magical building that had once been a hospital. Now it more resembled a morgue. Ministry members were trying to control the scene, but it was a pressing job. The Muggle repelling charms had fallen when the building had collapsed, meaning wizards were obliviating Muggles left and right.

The magical civilians were no better either. The families of the five hundred dead patients and healers were huddled around the building, each family coping with the grief differently. The Ministry members were forced to subdue several wizards who broke past the restriction line, and tried to enter the wreckage, as if seeing the face of their dead loved one would solve their problems.

It wouldn't.

Neville knew this. He also knew there were no faces of their loves one's left in the hellish wreckage. Fiend fyre didn't leave bodies and faces. It left ashes. Neville didn't quite know why exactly he was here. For the past seven years of his life Neville had known that his parents were comatose and never to wake again. In a twisted kind of sense, Neville's parents were already dead to him.

That hadn't meant he hadn't loved them though. He had still visited them every holiday with his gran. He had still sat beside his father's bed, and told her stories of Hogwarts. He still waited expectantly for the candy wrapper that his mother so graciously gifted him with every meeting.

Even though they would never have their life back, Neville had loved them, and now because of some fucked up Death Eater attack they were dead. Oh, he had read the Prophet, and seen Fudge's allegations, but Neville wasn't that much of an idiot. He had heard enough stories from his gran to know what a Death Eater attack looked like, and barring the dark mark hovering ominously in the sky, the wreckage of St. Mungo's displayed all the signs.

Neville had always wanted to make his parents proud. He had heard such incredible stories about them, and it was all he strived for to be just slightly as amazing as them. Now they were dead, and Neville was pretty sure he hadn't done anything to make them proud.

So now he would avenge them.

Not just Bellatrix Lestrange, the woman who had tortured them to insanity, but he would murder every Death Eater that breathed.

* * *

**So, no action, but a little fun with Time Travelling. As a kind of warning, or more like anti-warning, Time travelling won't play a role in this story from here on out. My story would turn into a mess if that happened.**

**Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter :)**

**Cheers**

**-Council**


End file.
